The Last Burger King.

@nickorsini

I rewound The Exorcist as I gave

you a minute to recover the gap

year from your graduation speaker.

My dad has this garage that he’s

still paying rent on, and if it’s not

too sad to smoke pot in garages in

your late twenties, maybe we can

re-work our resumes. I’ll add “78

OKCupid dates” you can add,

"Had some rent … never paid."

You asked about Linda Blair, 

but my VCR fucked up the tape.

Did you know in the 90’s, they

decided on themes for every

Burger King? In the whole country,

only two were ever built. This one

is “Under the Sea” which is why

we’re in a plastic submarine with

Whopper crumbs on our knees.

I hung a Scarface poster in the

name of the American Dream,

at least the version I remember

from MTV Cribs when I was 18.

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How The News Got Out About my Surgery Last Summer

@nickorsini

These blue eyes will

never be blue again-

Now they’re rust-red,

drugs and anger and

sleep deprivation.

I subscribed to the

news for a monthly

fee - It cost me my

best parts, parts that

still believed.

One more time you can

hold my clammy hand.

But these hands will never

be unsure again.

Have you ever seen

that curtain, held open

by the ignorant? Behind

it is a surgeon with a

tremor, waiting with

some scissors. The

cure left a crooked

scar, an embarrassing

part of every summer.

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this is a poem I wrote about a really, really cold girl and a boy who wanted her to get better.

follow me on twitter

buy my books on Amazon

buy my rare first book, Two Wrongs Make a Vice

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nick orsini, formerly readattheshow

AdorkableLife is not a blog. What I put here, while some of it is deeply personal, most is universal and based on truths and realities we all see and feel every day. I’ve tried to limit my personal thoughts on this site to when people ask me things or when I’m feeling something I can’t quite write a verse about. Even then, I save most of those things for Thought Catalog. More often, I talk to somebody. Now I’m talking to you.

I want to tell you a story.

Read More

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a cold transplant performed in an outdated kitchen.

@nickorsini

I fell in love with a girl I could not keep warm.

No matter how I tried, all five-foot-five of me

could not keep out the cold. There are saviors

in books, then there are boys who can’t drive

stick. When you need one, you get the opposite.

Hand-in-freezing-hand, lips pushed on freezing

lips, I would dig to hell for the favor of warming

the blood under my skin. If I could just boil and

evaporate, I would matter in every state - best

of all, she could finally feel me on her face.

There is a line to be saved, a line and a list,

same as it is when you’re waiting for a pig

heart to be transplanted. The animal within

those survivors is how I saw her at the end.

She just needs one new organ and she will

ignite like a cheap burner- slowly at first, then

the rest with my lighter. But I can’t drive her

to that clinic; I myself am just too sick.

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Nine Hundred Pages About a King.

I got some new followers on here. Here’s a poem, which is how this blog started, how it continues, and how it will never die. Follow me.

There is a book called The History

of Fridays with a foreword by green

strings on my knockoff Flying-V -

with a dedication to the Whole Foods

buffet. It is nine-hundred pages,

an epic tale of nothing, nowhere kings.

There are people born protagonists,

and footnotes we pretend don’t exist

because paragraphs should be perfect-

devoid of numbers in superscript.

We were just kids, PA’s in Yonkers,

pushing shopping carts full of our

best years. We went up the food

chain because we were starving -

and when no one clips your nails,

they’re best used for climbing. At

the end, every open-window refrain

that you sang and I played, is the

background music to conversations

I wish we were having. The History of

Fridays ends differently than it starts. Hold

on loyal reader. Hold on and have heart.

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Coffee Filter Broke so I Brewed my Brains Instead

@nickorsini for the brave.

Monday Night Raw and Guardians of the Galaxy and Joyce Manor and Comic Con panel cell-phone footage and fantasy football and Real Friends and TNA iMPACT and Ring of Honor and my dog and my broken phone and my hot office and my Sharknado office calendar and wash and fold on a Monday and beef jerky from upstate and Steve Jobs and Steve Globs and the marijuana industry.

There was a United Artists theater that closed and they put all the seats by the curb. Now I watch movies in authentic movie seats that I bolted to my floor and my back is always hurting.

There was a wash and fold that closed. They gave all their best customers wafers at Christmas time. Tins and tins and tins of wafers were in a dumpster by the curb. Nothing can eat chocolate without hurting other than people, just ask the stray dogs.

Adoption day and Modest Mouse and when will Game of Thrones be finished and another top-10 on the internet with any editing and spending all my money versus saving all my money. I want to have enough to do both.

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Loving Before I Knew Anything About Love

@NickOrsini

We played Mastodon against muted Nintendo-

The breakdowns were green shells I shot

from Wario to Donkey Kong. Your hair spread

on my sheets as you counted how many

years is too many to be married. I told you

just enough if we hurry. A horror movie of

a suburb, with an Elm street and a lake,

was all we had waiting. I’ve got these

dreams where I’m stronger, and I break

apart Pangaea with a guitar riff and my

voice, both never stop getting louder.

And it’s a coincidence that the resulting

continents, countries and states have

our backyards touching instead of being

a 10-day vacation away. Coming-of-age

is a concept to make that phase okay.

If he can do it and sing about it, I can

probably do the same. And I think of

you flying through a thunderstorm or

boarding a train. Mirror Mode made

you dizzy, but we still beat the game.

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good genes.

@nickorsini

I was tired of watching her carry

so much, so I lent my back to help-

And I never felt a thing so heavy

as the life she was living. My

legs were strong from running and

my back was straight from good

genes. “Let it go” she told once

we’d crossed, and I couldn’t

because it was too much for

just one of us. So we walked-

and pieces fell off on the side

of the road. Soon it was light

enough for us to stand up.

And she looked at the sun and

the sky and her green eyes met

dirty brown eyes - two thankful

spines seeing for the first time.

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GWB

@NickOrsini

Just take my hand.

I’ll put the flashers on -

Yes I know it’s late

for pedestrians to walk

across The George

Washington Bridge.

I’m already pulled over-

and the Civic barely

made it so let it count

for something. Thank

you for saving me and

for the last year, it’s been

the best one of my life.

You see all these cables,

all these lights? I used to

think of men building this-

You know 12 of them

died? I get romantic

about architecture- how

it exists for you and I,

even in the crowded

moments - this city is

crowded all the time.

This is where I first

felt…  driving across

the lower level, not

sure if you remember.

You said you found it

amazing, in the face of

forever- which is just the

length of a playlist, we

get these moments

in love better than

any author can capture-

the 3am Hudson River

and how your wrist feels

after the lights go off in

a movie theater.

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