Douglas Vigliotti

Recently, someone asked me, “Why do you write about love so much?”

I responded, “Why are you alive?”

They looked at me like I had seven heads, but even if I had three days, I couldn’t pick a better response. Chew on that for a while, I thought. There’s plenty of meat there for you. Enough to keep you fed for a week. Maybe a lifetime, I can only hope.

You want me to spell it out for you?…

With a scarf still wrapped around my neck, I blow into my hands, then rub them together hoping to see a flame. Just a glance at the wet coat next to me shoots a chill down to my toes. The smell of bacon wafts through the air, pacing the snow that continues to flurry outside. Each time the scent lands on my upper lip, I inhale, and my toes warm a bit.

Snowflakes land on the window. Some dissolve, others melt and race down to join the slush on the sill. Voices chatter as the kitchen door swings open, but fade out of resonance when the door closes. The creaky hinges resound in the background, sending another icey wave through my body…

When I am with family and friends, we’re having a great time. Smiling, laughing, and escaping life. That’s why they want to see more of me, I hope. I mean, that’s why I want to see more of them. I love them.

Here’s the thing, though. More time does not mean better time. It just means more. That’s it. And quite often, more just leaves you feeling like you’ve had too much. Fun becomes boring. New becomes old. Strong becomes weak. Empty becomes full. And yes, good can become bad…

Make the choice and own the result. Be sad or be happy, but never dwell.

Any time I dwell, I get hit with a three-punch combo that sends me to the canvas. Physical or mental, the canvas is devastating. Of course, you can pretend you’re living inside a movie—Rocky Balboa or something. You know, the whole “winners get up from the canvas” bit. They do, but I assure you it sounds sexier to get up from the canvas than it is to actually do it. I don’t care who you are—you get knocked down enough times, eventually you’re going to start believing you're a loser…

I’ve been thinking a lot about patience lately.

Patience is our ability to tolerate or accept delay, trouble, or suffering without getting angry. At least, that’s what the dictionary says. We need patience, almost always. But patience is also saying “no” to option 1 in favor of future options. It’s easy to say yes to option 1. It’s available and open. It’s ready for the taking, and it often has elements of what we want. But is it really?…

Sometimes I wake up with love oozing out of my fingertips. I know it sounds kind of wonky, but it drips from my fingernails to the page. A spigot of heat, if you will. Love is a big topic, one I’ve written about before. How can I not? It’s so primal. So visceral. It lives inside us. Shit, I even wrote a letter to love. I loved that piece. Still do.

Today isn’t about love, though. It’s about a lack of it. Maybe that’s why it’s creeping out of my pores. The worst grievance the coronavirus has caused me, which is pretty fortunate, is that I haven’t had sex all year. What? I know, I know. It’s the longest I’ve ever gone. If sex makes you uncomfortable, don’t read this…

Sometimes you’re on a collision course with heartbreak. Sadness. Love. Excitement. I don’t know. Whatever it is, you hit it directly. In baseball, they call it a no doubter. The bat meets the ball head on. Boom. It’s a home run, and you know it with every ounce of your being.

Music has a funny way of getting you there. But it’s more than music—there’s something bigger happening…

In fourth grade, I put a tack on a teacher’s chair because a girl told me to. Actually, a boy dared me, but the girl was sitting next to me. She laughed when he said it, so I did it. I got sent home from school, and my mom wanted to kill me. But the teacher deserved it and that girl was my first kiss. So was it worth it? Well, it took me twenty years just to remember the specifics. How can I regret it? Seemed like good trade at the time, and still does. That teacher was the worst. Plus, I liked the girl. So yeah, it was worth it.

I’ve been out and about, thought I was attracted to someone…

As you get older, you get more lonely.

There’s no way around it. Maybe this is sad, but it’s just the truth. Going to bed without a warm body next to you is a haunting experience for a soft heart. The only thing worse is a dead body, which can happen in one of two ways—literally or figuratively. I’m still trying to figure out which is worse.

When I look at people younger than me, I see myself, but a version that existed two mind states ago. I can’t pinpoint when the shift occurred, exactly, but…

Today I woke up to an ache in my right shoulder. Time for another cortisone shot? Maybe, but I got too distracted by the ache in my hip. Right one, too. All those years of skating? Possibly. No more ache in my right knee, though. I stopped running to stymie that. What’s up with my right side?

Sometimes when I chew, I hear my jaw click. Never heard that before, and it’s happening more and more. Google assured me nothing is wrong. At least my breath is good (I think). But my eyesight is getting a little worse each year, -4.00 now. Maybe it’s all the squinting that’s creating these wrinkles. Damn mirror…

Just when you think you’ve got it all figured out, life squeezes lemon juice in your eye. Blind to what’s ahead, you stumble and fall, hit your knee on the edge of a coffee table, and bump right into life’s next challenge. What the heck just happened? It’s an instant reminder that you maybe didn’t have your suitcase packed and you probably weren’t ready for the trip after all. Don’t worry about it, though. You’re better off walking blindly, stumbling, bumping, and falling. Perfection is for phonies.

Sometimes, people suggest I’m too cryptic. I tell them there’s an easy solution for that…

Everyone is looking for an excuse to not bleed. Not do it, not say it, not write it. It’s easier that way, they think. But is it? Is it really?

People don’t like being vulnerable, but who likes to expose a wound? Worse, having life pour alcohol all over it? Nobody. Find me the person who says, “I do,” and I’ll show you a liar. It’s just not logical. Yet without the alcohol, without the burn, you risk infection. Is that what you want?

Something that courses through your blood, turning everything from red to black…

I love Pepe’s pizza.

The problem isn’t that I love Pepe’s pizza. It’s that I know Pepe’s pizza is possible.

There are two kinds of possibilities: one we can imagine, and one we know is real. The former is something we’ve seen or heard about. The latter is something we’ve had firsthand experience with. I’ll admit, deciphering between the two is more and more difficult with social media, streaming, and the introduction of more imagined possibilities…

Everyone does something for the first time.

The relationship. The business. The creative venture. The single wants to commit. The employee wants to start a business. The attorney wants to be a comedian. Will they succeed or fail? I don’t know. What are the metrics, anyway? Are they your metrics, their metrics, or metrics made up by someone else at some random point in history?

In any case, the best way to guess what someone will do next is…

Last night, it dawned on me.

Cloudy, dazed, and tired, I heard light music playing in the background. It was too faint to peg the song, but with one open eye, I saw a long, naked leg splayed out to the left. I touched it and instantly felt a sensation tickle my nervous system. Shit, that’s my leg.

Heat does that, you know? Makes one leg hang off the bed, dying for air, needing relief. It screams to the rest of your body, “Get me the hell outta here!” It’s that type of warmth that made me realize another body was next to me…

Yesterday, I needed some advice.

This is a predicament we all seem to find ourselves in as we scour our lives for answers. Where should I turn? Who should I go to? These decisions are important, damnit!

Herein lies the problem: people are pretty bad at giving advice. Most people aren’t listening, and even fewer actually care. Nobody should be expected to listen or obligated to care. The world is busy. Who really wants to hear my problems? That’s what shrinks are for.

Family and friends, you say?…

Dear Love,

I’ll give you this. You dazzle me in movies, melt me in songs, and wow me in books. But how well do I really know you?

After all, these are the stories I want to hear. I will willingly watch, listen to, or read for hours. They say, “You’re based on a true story.” But I’ve never seen a beauty marry a beast or a street peasant marry a princess. Is it possible I like the idea of you more than I like you?…

There are so many moments in life.

But there is one moment that seems to captivate me far beyond any other. This moment is so rare that it moves about in flashes, every so often, and only if you’re lucky will you get to experience it throughout life. 

This moment wrestles my heart to the ground, squeezes it like a boa constrictor until it stops beating, like a mouse that stops breathing. But just for a moment. Suddenly, I feel a release. I’m alive again. In awe. Speechless. Not sure what to think, say, or do. All I’m left with is this moment, dancing there still in my mind…

I found you.

I don’t know what you are or who you are, but I know where you are. Because I found you.

A feeling that’s irreplaceable. Magic happens the moment I realize something is mine. Only mine. A feeling of possession. I claim you, care for you, and tell the world about you. It’s a dance between responsibility and vulnerability. A feeling so deep. So meaningful. All because I found you.

Sometimes this happens with a musician. Other times a lover. Or even a moment or a rock.

Does it even matter?…

Would it be okay if you never knew?

I say that seriously, too. There’s a thought I have of me undressing you. I slip my hand around your waist, there you are, finally looking at me differently than you ever have before. Would it be okay if you never knew?

Sometimes, I think about that thought before I go to sleep at night. Other times, as soon as I wake up. Like a bolt of lightning, it flashes in and out of my mind during any given day. For all of eternity, though, I will be the only one who knows. 

Our circumstances have led us here…

I’ve seen this play out a million times in my mind.

We’re on a small boat floating at sea. A dead silence surrounds us. Tikis hover far in the distance. There’s no waves, but palm trees are slightly waving. Our frozen drinks have umbrellas, just how you like them. You, well, look just like you. Glowing. I can’t see your eyes because we’re wearing sunglasses, but your smile says all I need to know. When I glance over, the sun dances off your nose—reflecting at the perfect angle each time, reminding me that having courage in that moment was a good decision…

Here I am—battered not beaten.

I know something is wrong because it’s nine o’clock in the morning and I’m still in bed. I find it odd that the only thing I want to do is share this with you, which is why I’m typing right now rather than sleeping.

My head is throbbing, and I’m wondering why I let those random girls seduce me into buying tequila shots last night. And then buying more, again and again. Seduction is a powerful thing. You see, I’m still alone. Now this is all I’m left with. A fraction of the man I thought I was. My subconscious reminds me that I should be grateful, though. I can only fight back with, Really?…