Monday, December 19, 2011

Picture with me...... Tha Remix

This is one I moved from another site.  Their servers are always crashing and some of these stories are very special to me.  So before they disappear.....

Picture with me....... If you will.

Close your eyes, listen to this song and the lyrics very closely.  Picture what you hear and feel. Let the music engulf you, take you to a whole new world. Can you get that into a song? I totally can. When we lived in the desert in California I used to go outside and just walk off into the nothingness, sand, yucca trees and cacti as far as you can see in any direction. I suppose I was 14 or so, starting the 9th grade in the 3rd high school already.  Failing at everything, failing at life.  I was a loner, a freak, a skateboarder, an addict, and a loser.  So lost was I, that I would take these walks often..for hours ... after all, I had nothing but time.

I would listen to this song and felt like I was watching a movie unfolding before me.  It starts out with a little boi walking across the sandy desert, a ice cold bottle of Thunderbird in hand.  Nothing but dead things; animals, bones, trees, bushes, cacti, abandoned houses and falling down shacks. Even the living things in the desert, play dead most of the time.  Most of the things that are living in deserts are very dangerous to people, rattle snakes, sidewinders, and scorpions.  They were the creatures he admired, remnants of prehistoric times.  He admired their survival instincts the most.  Do they feel happiness or sadness he wondered.  He thought one day he would just keep walking and not turn back, let the desert consume him.  Maybe one day one of these amazing creatures would end him, and he would thank them for it.  His mind drifts from subject to subject as he walks towards something.... or maybe nothing.  "I WON'T GIVE UP THAT EASILY" he yells towards the sky.  "I am not ready to go."

The soft sand kept his feet from hurting and he walked on for miles, lost in his thoughts of despair and loneliness.  He glimpsed a destination in the distance, his new goal to attain.  Stopping only momentarily to pull a random cactus needle out of his leg, he traveled swiftly.  The pace slowed as he came up to an old house, dilapidated, but still intact.  It was very mysterious to him.  He stood there staring, puzzled at the sight.  There is no trail or road and he was miles away from the closest buildings.  Yet, here in the middle of nothingness, there stands a lone house.  

Very cautiously he walked up to a window and looked in.  It was bright inside because the roof was decayed and the sunlight gleamed off of something on the floor.  He noticed there were still curtains on the windows and furniture in the room.  His heartbeat began to thump in his chest.  This was fascinating to him.  For the first time in a while he was genuinely excited.  Creeping around he noticed the front door was wide open.  Stepping over old empty cans, bottles and plastic packages, he walked towards it.  Being young and stupid, he just walked right in.  

When he walked in he yelled "Hello, is anyone here?"  Nothing, complete silence was the answer.  He took a few more steps in and heard a long *cReAk* noise coming from the floor.  It sounded as if it were in pain from his weight.  It was once painted a bright blue color.  There were only traces of the color left in it, for most was gray and dark from years of sand and wind.  Everything inside was dull and dirty, sand was everywhere.  There were couches and chairs, whose fabric was faded, ripped and torn.  The floor and walls were made of regular plywood.  There was a shelf with nicknack's on it, dishes, bottles, a book and an empty crystal ashtray on the coffee table.  Some of these items looked as if they had not moved in years, while others were bright and shiny like they were just put there.  It was creepy to him to see all these personal items left in this decaying building.

Wondering aloud he spoke again "Can anyone hear me?"  Whoever lived here was gone, but where had they gone?  They obviously left in a real hurry.  Perhaps...... they were dead.  Maybe they died here of natural causes, or were murdered.  Could the creatures of the desert have killed them?  His mind was racing now, full of "what if."  They might be buried under the house.  Possibly, they had come into some money and just up and moved away.  Yes, that was it, they got rich and just moved out.  That was what he wanted to believe, true or not.  He looked down on the floor and saw a large hole in the floor.  In the hole there were some shiny and some dull objects in a neat pyramid stack.  It looked like the plywood had collapsed from the weight. 

What were these things?  They appeared to be balls of rock.  Some were small and some big, ranging from about a golf ball to the size of a grapefruit.  Some were solid and some were cracked.  Reaching down to pick one up he noticed his hands were trembling.  All the excitement was getting to him, and not in a good way.... he was getting scared.  He picked up one of the things off the top of the pile.  It was heavy for its size, but just looked like a normal rock.  He picked up another one and part of it fell on the ground.  He turned the part in his hand over and it was very shiny, like white, frosted, jagged glass inside the rock.  The object was so pretty with the light gleaming off of it.

He bent down to pick up another and it was broken in half too, actually it was somewhat shattered.  It was a yellowish glass on the inside.  Yet another one caught his eye.  It was bigger than most and had gold metallic lines on the outside.  Part of it was burnt looking, like scorched from extreme heat.  He remembered seeing drawings of the space shuttles reentry into the atmosphere.  The nose of the shuttle was red hot, and burnt looking after it landed.  Imagination running wild his mind searched frantically for an answer.  What the hell were these new, amazing things?  The answer hit him like a brick, he knew what these were. METEORITES FROM OUTER SPACE!  Soooo cool he thought, I am holding space rocks.  Maybe they are worth a lot of money.  "I can take a few back home with me and take them to the pawn shop," he thought.

Looking down at even more meteorites, he was startled by a loud noise.  Freezing solid, spider sense  at maximum, he tried not to allow even one breath to escape.  Glancing down at the coffee table he finally realized the new looking astray, was just that, new.  The empty Mountain Dew bottle still contained bubbling liquid and that was the new label and logo on it.  "Holy Shit" he though, "somebody is still using this house."  He heard another loud noise, a horrible screeching sound.  Dropping all the rocks he bolted for the door.  Turn right he thought, NO LEFT!  Down the side of the house he ran, while trying to swallow his heart back out of his throat.

Around the back of the house and straight out into the open desert he ran.  When his throat began to burn and his lungs gasped for oxygen, he forced himself to run even more.  Never once did he look back, dodging and jumping over dead things, and cacti.  Giant prickly pear cacti. It looks like large beaver tails, loaded with needles.  Finally he slowed his pace when he could feel the pain in every muscle in his body.  Then he thought, I have to look back..... but ...... but.  What if there was a killer right behind him, so close to him?  Maybe he had killed those people in the abandoned house.  At that moment a realization came to him, he didn't really care.  What would be so bad about death, anyway?

He was shaking so hard when he forced himself to turn around.  There was nothing there.  The house was small and far away now, but he couldn't see anyone.  "I really need a fucking drink" he thought.  He looked down and saw he was still holding the Thunderbird. Just a few sips, it was a long way home.  He was still scared, what if they had saw him in the house?  What if they came looking for him?  I can take them on all by myself, he thought.  I am not afraid of anybody.  It was getting dark as he walked slowly on through the desert.  He was kicking himself for going in that house.  If those rocks were really valuable, they would come looking for him.  Stupid boi, there could have been rapist, robbers or serial killers in there.  "Mom would lock me in the house forever if she knew what I did," he thought to himself.  Why did his parents have to move here?   Of all the forsaken lands in America, here?!?  Nothing, nothing, and more nothing!  Why didn't he have a choice?  Yeah, he knows... he is just a kid.  His opinion is NOT important.

It was about 70 degrees and the sky is a deep blue and crystal clear, it is always crystal clear at night.  He is looking up as he walks, watching thousands of stars on the sky.  They are so amazing as they twinkle and glimmer.   How can things millions of miles away be so awe inspiring?  Questions began filling his mind, nothing but questions.  Where did the people go?   There are literally thousands of abandoned houses, shanties and buildings scattered out here in the desert.  Did they all die, or were they miners that just moved on?  It is so mysterious and somewhat depressing.  Were they missed? Was someone waiting for them to come home?  Did they ever make it home?  If he never went home would anyone even care?  He choked down some more cheap wine.

He wonders a lot as he walks, for he really is just a child.  He can not understand this wasteland, that has become his life.  Without notice, the dam burst wide open inside him.  He is completely overcome with sadness.  Up in the sky, he sees the tears in his girlfriend's big, brown eyes on that last night they were together.  Those sweet, salty tears, he kissed away for hours on end.  They swore they would stay together, forever, but he had not heard from her in months.  Those wonderful letters, the ones with the big bubble hearts and the smiley faces...... had stopped.  Part of his heart was gone, and he missed her so much.

They told him, his parents,  to go and make new friends after the first move, that was hard enough.  Then they said "It's OK, you can make even more friends" after the second move.  He sees all those faces in the stars, and feels all those scars inside him.  Did they care that he was gone, did they miss him like he missed them?  They cut him so deep and then poured the alcohol felt like he was drowning in a lake of fire.

There was nothing for him here, NOTHING!  Even those concrete playgrounds where he rode away his cares away on his skateboard, were gone.  Here was a land of sand and shitty asphalt that you couldn't even roll on.  Consumed..... so lost, he stood all alone....... and his whole body quivered, buckling under the weight of his world.  He cried like he never had before,  no friends, no girlfriend, no hobbies, nothing except drugs, alcohol and pain.  Finally he crumbled, just like his world.  Falling to the ground on all fours, and the tears flowed like the great Mississippi River. The cool, dry sand his only friend, soaking up all his sorrows.

It seemed to be getting brighter outside, but it had to be around midnight now.  The tears had run out.  On the ground where they poured, there was not even a trace.  The sand seems to erase everything.... without a trace.  Just like the people who lived in all those abandoned houses.  Suddenly, It looked like someone had set off fireworks in the heavens.  Several stars were shooting through the sky, looking almost like they were dancing.   He closed his eyes and listened to the silence only the desert can offer, broken only by occasional howls of night predators.

Without even realizing it he begins holding out his hands, palms up to the sky. Wishing for answers, praying for answers or just an end to all the pain.  He feels something warm and tingly on his hands.  The feeling instantly relaxes him, like a baby sleeping on it's mothers chest, listening to her heartbeat.   He feels like he is melting inside, it feels ...... so .... so wonderful. Opening his eyes he sees that he is holding a small, glimmering STAR!  It is so bright he can barely look at it until his eyes adjust.  It bounces in his hands so playfully and joyfully.  Flying around him, sprinkles of light falling like pixie dust, and then back to his hands again.

He stands up ever so slowly. He is afraid he is going to scare it away.  It is the most wonderful thing he has EVER seen or touched and he does not EVER want to let it go. He begins to squeeze his hands together tightly to make sure he will not drop it and he starts to walk faster again.  His house is getting closer and he wishes he could run, full speed ahead.  Maybe it will fit in a jar so he can keep it and play with it anytime he wants.  His father could poke holes in the lid just like when he caught those horny toad lizards.  Wait.....he remembers he had to let them go, they were going to die in that jar.

Suddenly he stops, because he realizes, it is not his to take.   No one can own an other's life.  He can not keep the star, no matter how bad he wants too or how good it makes him feel.   It gave him what he had to have, something wonderful, amazing, a truly life changing experience for him.   He did something impossible, something everyone says cannot be done, HE CAUGHT A FALLING STAR!!!  The star lightened his burden, eased the regret and sorrow.  A piece of him was brought back, a little piece of hope.  Making the impossible, possible, there is no better testament to hope than that.  Someone did care.

He knows deep in his heart someone else NEEDS this star much, much more than he does now.  Someone else who is innocent, yet being ravaged and torn to shreds by loneliness and pain.  He was a soulless being, stripped of all reason to live, ripped away from everybody and everything he ever loved and cared for.   He will see them all again, the star told him, and he finally had something to believe in.  He thanked that little star and hugged it so tight.  Raising his arms to the night sky..... he let it go ....... and he sang........ A star is out...... I reach for one to sparkle in my hand....... A star is out...... I will not touch you, I am just a man .........

P.S.  This may shed some light on the mindset I was in.  My mom and grandmother had  hid those letters from me for over a year, until I found one in the bottom drawer of our filing cabinet.  All hell was unleashed on them at that time for hiding those letters..... every kind of hell a child could give to their parents.  The only thing that had kept me sane was hid from me for "my well being."  I did move back closer to the girl on our fourth move, and she became my girlfriend again.  She had been sent away for a while.  You know, because parents always know what is best for you.

I finally realized she needed me just as much, if not more than I needed her.  I think we patched each other up, made each other whole again...... for a while.  Then I had to move again, and after years of struggling with a long distance relationship..... I lost her again.  This time we let each other go, to be free and soar the heavens where we belonged.  No more chains ...... She is a star and an Angel ..... to me.  I believe Angels are only temporary.  They come and go as needed, but when you need them, I mean really fucking need them, they will be there. 

I don't know if I have done this story any justice, or ruined it by rewriting it, but I have sure as hell cried a lot.  Deuces......

Monday, December 5, 2011

Spiritual Healing

I awaken to a phone call at 7am.  Picking up my phone I hear the fabulous "Everyday I'm Shuffling" ring tone and smile for a second.  I answer "Hello?" I sound just barely alive.  A raspy woman's voice replies "Yeah, I had a missed call from this phone number."   I stop and collect my thoughts for a few seconds before replying.  I would know that voice anywhere.  Firm and demanding, with just a hint of a grin thrown in.  Raspy as hell from years of smoking and chasing and yelling at shoplifters.  "No you didn't, because I never get up this damn early.  Phyllis is that you?" I replied.  "Oh, yeah.... sorry.  Hey James how are you and that little clan doing?"  "We are awesome!  How are you and yours?  Still raising that grand baby for your daughter?"  I asked.

Then I sat straight up in the bed, stiff as a board.  I felt a chill like I have never before.  Stricken with fear I looked over on the night stand for my phone.  It was not there.  There it sat on my pillow, right next to where my head was.  It was 7:04 am.  You see, my friend died over a month ago.  I have had this dream at least 5 times that I can remember.  I wonder if I am eating myself alive with guilt for not visiting, or if she is trying to tell me something from beyond the grave.  I see good spirits... and I see bad spirits...... So many times, I have talked to dead people.  I wonder if they are trying to talk to me, too.

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

The Laughter of Children

I was doing deliveries today. When I drove up to a church something caught my gaze. There through the overly expensive glass doors I saw a group of children between the ages of 4 and 6.  There were probably 20 kids and 2 teachers.  I reached for the door handle to get out of the van and go inside, but then I changed my mind.  Not wanting to disrupt their activity I sat and watched them for about 15 minutes.  Hey, don't say it, they take out a 30 minute lunch break on me no matter what I do every day.  What's wrong with watching children play?

I watched one of the teachers lead them in a chaotic game of Simon Says.  "Simon says hop on one leg, Simon Says spin around, Simon says clap your hands, sit down.  Ohhh, Simon didn't say sit down, you are out!"  They were having so much fun, laughing, clapping, hopping, screaming and spinning.  Some were having so much fun they kept on spinning until they fell down and then rolled around on the floor.

A few minutes went by and then it was time to play Pretend.  Do you remember pretending to be someone or something?  The untainted imagination of children is the absolute best.  They all pretended to be carrying something very heavy.  Then they pretended to be monsters, holding their hands up high, growling and chasing each other around.  Then they pretended to be ballet dancers and they twirled around the room.  Later it was zombies, with their heads down and cocked sideways they drug one leg behind and slowly moped around the room.  Then the teachers lost control and all the kids did what kids do best, act silly.  They were dancing, running, spinning, hopping, jumping and having a ball.

 THIS ^^^^^ is what it is all about to me.  These ^^^^^ children are the perfect example of pure enjoyment.  Fun and a lack of peer pressure equals total happiness for these kids.  I could tell that even the teachers were having a ball.  Just for a few minutes they forgot they were grown ups and they were free to play.  THIS ...... is what I need to see more of.  The smiles, cheers, playfulness, joy, imagination, and above all:  The Laughter of Children. 

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

I am Gemini, not Cancer.....

I have lived a thousand lives, and I am only 37.  I wonder what I have done to be so blessed.... or so fucking cursed.  Why is it that I get so interconnected with people, some I have never even met.  Why is it that is do not comprehend the body, but can see str8 into your soul?  Why is it that when they die, a part of me is lost as well?  I wonder all thie time if I am special, or completely worthless.  I wonder.... I wonder..... I wonder.  Will I ever get it back?

I was once a Gemini, through and through.  Duality, two halves that form a whole.  One light and one dark, the seed of Angels and Demons.  Once, I could slit your throat and watch you die, cold was I.  The other side would try to revive you, cry with you and go to the hospital with you.  Now.... tonight, I don't know what I am.  I am lost.  I wanted to be the best, but fear I have become the worst.  Pieces of me are gone,  I let them go... with him, and her.... and them.  I am not a whole anymore, just pieces of the puzzle.  Part of an intity I once knew.

My eyes were once a bright blue, like the sky on a beautiful day.  They seem to be gray now, clouded.  Pain, regret and sorrow fill my heart.  They fight constantly with happiness, truth and love.  I am only 37, no body prepared me for this.  Why not?  Were they afraid we would have just given up then, or that we would have not given a fuck at all?  I care too much, I know I do.  I have to be strong for my wife and two kids.  Is there someone that is being strong for me?  I don't know how I keep going on.

I have lost 10 friends in the last 12 years.  Six were from cancer, 3 from drug abuse, 1 diabetes complications.  I am only 37, no one prepared me for this.  Times like these I sit and stare at the stars, because sometimes the earth is empty.  I silently scream at the heavens.  I would fight your so called "GOD" to bring you back.  You were/are the best of us and the rest of us, well....... we need you.  I need some glue and stiches on my broken heart.  A part of my soul is dead.  I don't know how much I have left before I go back to ice, so cold...... and hard as a diamond.   For once.... I am afraid.

When my eyes turn black, and my soul grows cold, you will know it is my time.  Somewhere, I hope someone will be strong for me. 

He Said ..... She Said. Tha REMIX!

An old blog I deleted, reconstituted and resurrected.

She (a woman that cheats on her husband frequently) told her (a woman that lied to her boyfriend and the new man she was currently seeing and cheating on her boyfriend with) that there is a woman (who has been divorced and currently in a relationship with a married man) her husband (a man that was sleeping with 4 different women when they met) is friends with, that is a whore ( a woman/man that sleeps with multiple people).  He (the man that cheated on the woman he is now married to with his ex fiance) told his wife (the woman that was with her boyfriend while she was cheating on him with her new, soon to be boyfriend, and that boyfriends current girlfriend) that they (he and the girl) were just friends.  He (the guy that realized what a bunch of fucking hypocrites people really are) said she (his wife) could tell her friends(cheating ass friends) to mind their own business and fuck off.  He (the happily married man) smiled, hugged his wife, popped his collar and dusted off the haters.  She (his wife) did not say anything because she considered them (the evil ones) to be her friends.
Later they (the miserable women) decided to try it again (screwing around with someones relationship).  They (the  people that seem to hate seeing a married couple happy) told her (the happily married wife) that her marriage would be better if she (the still happily married wife) cheated on her husband.  She (the bewildered woman) was shocked and amazed.  She (the woman with believed in her marriage vows) said no, that is not something she (the woman who felt no need to cheat) ever wanted to do.  they (the conspirators) told he that he (her loving husband) was out doing it anyway, so she (the overwhelmed wife) should too.  She (the woman who trusted her husband) realized these (demons) women were NOT her friends and she distanced herself from them.  A short while later she (the evil one) brought up again, that she thought he (the loving husband of the happily married woman) was cheating on her.  At that point she (the faithful wife) decided she was done with this woman and needed to find a new job, far far away from the evil ones.   The evil ones then started a frantic campaign to smear the faithful wife.  Posting repeatably on Facebook and the My Hattiesburg forums the evil one claimed she was a victim.  She (the misguided, miserable one who started the whole thing) is not a victim.  She instead has lost a very good friend, and created an enemy.

Friday, November 11, 2011

Ooh Rah! Veterans Day

It is Veterans Day today.  The official day to honor veterans in America.  What a wonderful display of affection we have for these men and women.  While we (civilians) do not always agree with what the military is asked to do, the vast majority of us still support them 100%.  I would like to thank all veterans, and all service men and women for defending our country, freedom, and beliefs.  Stay strong, stay safe and stay proud, because we are very proud of YOU.

Yes, I did "Ooh Rah!"  It is only normal that I be slightly partial to The United States Marine Corps, being raised by a 30 year Marine.  He often tells me the I am part Marine because I was raised under the banner.  I called him first thing this morning to thank him and tell him I have always been proud!  I would like to share something he told me once, just a little tidbit. He does not talk a lot about his years of enlistment, so hen he does I listen well.

During the Vietnam War he was a Captain I believe.  He said one of the nicest things he could do for his men was to get them different kinds of food.  Specifically, he said canned peaches were one of their all time favorites.  He talks about sending them a can a piece any time he could.  Sometimes if they were on patrol they even had to spray paint the cans before they could take them to them, because they were shiny and reflected light, possibly putting the men in danger.  Then after they were eaten they could dig a hole and bury the cans.  Just a little reminder that it is the small things in life that are really important, like a can of peaches that boosted the moral of many a soldier in a foreign country (and were good for their health too). 

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Dark Days

Days like today are ones I could do without.  Days of waiting and wondering.  They are filled with false expectation and harsh realities.  The silence can be defining.  Every breath I take is a labor, and every exhale I feel my body shake as I try to hold it in.  Right on the edge of tears, but hoping so fucking hard for good news, a miracle so to speak.

I go outside and pick a gorgeous flower, and it immediately starts to die.  Taking it inside, I find my most beautiful vase to showcase its magnificence.  I give it water to sustain it and a aspirin to ease its suffering.  Day after day I watch as it's colors fade and it's petals droop.  I pick up the fallen petals and wish it was young again, something near it's former glory. Eventually there are no petals left, and no wondrous smell.  I am helpless as it withers away.  I become angry, enraged at my own inability, so I lash out at everyone around me.  Then the silence falls, and it is defining ..... almost maddening.  To cope, I reminisce.  I tell stories of how wonderful the flower smelled, how pretty and vibrant it's colors were, and we laugh and smile.  Then we try to fill the hole where that lovely flower once was, but we never will.  There will only be a void where there once was magnificence.

One day I will wither away as well.  I will take comfort in knowing what a wonderful life I had.  I am not afraid of my journey with Azrael, he will guide me well.  I only worry of the sadness that will stay behind.  I do not want to be that void, I want to be remembered as a flower.

Monday, October 31, 2011

A very dark night

This is the end of a short story I wrote.  It is not in order, it isn't meant to be.  It was inspired by a friends "Halloween creativity" story on Facebook.  I will finish the beginning someday.  I have to thank Larry and Amanda for filling my mind with such horror.
A very dark night: The conclusion

Pitch blackness is all I can see. There was a full moon out earlier, how could it just disappear like this? Searching the entire area I see nothing, is something is wrong with my eyes? Could I be blind, temporary or permanently? The night is completely silent, except for a very loud thumping and a dull ringing noise. It is not really a noise, more like a vibration, pounding inside my body. It’s never this quiet in the bayou. Not even a frog or a cricket chirping.

Last thing I remember is that I was running away, but from what and where was I going? Breathing erratically, in a total panic and running as fast as I can. The only sounds are mine now. “OH SHIT” I yell as I feel my legs going out from under me. Weightless for what seems like an eternity as I trip and fall. Unable to see where I was going and unable to see where I am falling. *THUMP* It stings and burns when I slam into the ground, the pain is all over my body. A warm metallic taste fills my mouth, and I spit again and again. “Is this how it ends?” I ask myself, face down in the rocks and dirt.

Wiping the sweat and dirt out of my eyes I try to look up and focus. The ringing I thought I was hearing starts to subside. That is why I can’t hear, the ringing is inside my ears. Possibly a bodily reaction from something loud, very loud and bright. It could have been an explosion of some type. I wish I could remember what happened tonight. GOD, the pain in my legs is excruciating, and my nose. I know I hit the ground hard, at a full run and so did my face, bit my tongue too. FUCK IT HURTS! Got to get up and figure out where I am and what is happening. Screams, I remember the screams. Horrifying, screams of terror and pain. I don't know who was screaming?

I start to stand, then fall again. My ankle will not support me, so I kneel on one knee. I remember kneeling like this at soccer practice, waiting for my next set of instructions. This seems different though, it is not a game and there are no instructions. I wish my coach was here.  It started as a game, a joke, a hustle. Now it is all too real, people got hurt, maybe died. I need to find a phone, or a car. It is all coming back to me in flashes, too much too fast. Got to get the police, they will know what to do. I think my eyes are getting used to the dark, except it is not dark, not dark at all. There is a silverlight shining off the bayou. It is eerily beautiful. The moon is full and the palest yellow. Trees and plants jut up out of the steamy water like arrows.

My hearing is back, now I can hear the mosquitoes buzzing around my head. I hate those little bastards. The frogs and crickets are silent like they are afraid of something. Is it me or something much worse? LOOK! In the water over there, something is moving. Maybe it’s an alligator or a nutria rat; the swamps are full of them. No that looks more familiar, like a hand. There is a fucking hand sticking up out of the water, there is another and another. Panic starts to set in again, here comes the thumping again. It is thumping so hard it feels as if I will explode.  I stand up, unconscious of the pain now and limp slowly around the tree, trying not to trip over the roots again. Dammit, not again I think as I start to fall. Maybe when I look up they won’t be there. I was just imagining it all. I must have bumped my head in that first fall. Everything I am seeing is just an illusion, or delusion.

Face first into the dirt and rocks. Damn that hurts. I tried to catch myself but my wrists gave out. I think I broke one this time. Wiping my eyes and blinking uncontrollably I start to look up. OH MY GOD, the sight consumes me. My body is unresponsive and still, my lungs gasping for air and unable to make a sound. He is kneeling directly in front of me dressed as a ninja in all black, but missing his mask. Completely still as if he is frozen in time, unable to act. I can’t even tell if he is breathing. The only motions I can see are the tears running down his face, mixing with drops of blood.  Tiny rivers of blood flowing down his cheeks and neck.  In his outstretched hands he holds a sword covered in blood. It looks like he is trying to give the sword to someone like a gift, but there is no one there. He is locked in some form of shock, as am I. I have to get control of myself so I can help him and find out what has happened here.

I limp over and grab the sword. It takes all I have left in me to pick it up and throw it a few feet away. As I release the sword I start to fall again, right onto him. He barely flinches feeling like a rock underneath me, but his cell phone falls out on the ground. I pick it up and dial 911, “Hello, what is your emergency?” I will apologize to his wife later, if we make it through this alive. I hug him closely, trying to break this trance he is in and whispering into his ear. Jam I never told you, but I have loved you from day one, please come back to me. I need you now or we may both die out here. Do you want me to die? You have never let me down before and I am here for you now, what happened? Jam? Jam, can you hear me? Please Jam, I am so scared. I need you….. I need you ….. I need you…. I need you…… to come back to me.

I know its working because he is getting softer under me. No longer feeling like a rock and starting to shake a little. Jam, what happened? I ask again. He is starting to stutter something, but it is very faint. I…… I ….. I ….. I killed her Alice. I cut off Janet’s head because I thought she was one of them. One of those monsters that ate them, all of them. They are all dead. I studied this, trained for this my whole fucking life. In the end I killed one of my best friends. Her blood is on my hands, my soul is gone. I need you to live Alice, my wife will need your help. My kids love you and Patricia trusts you with her life. Tell my wife and kids I love love them. I need you to tell our story.  Tell them never to come back here, NEVER!

He stood up, dropping me to the ground. It is almost daylight he said, you will be safe until then. Remember what happened tonight Alice. No Jam, NO! You can’t leave me here alone I am so scared, it is the last plea I had, pitiful at best. He walked over and picked up his sword and put it back in the scabbard on his back. I will see you again Alice, and I will send you back to Hell demons. With that last curse he ran and dove into the bayou waters. The hands grabbing at him, tearing clothes and flesh from his body. He stood one last time, drew his sword, looked me in the eyes and smiled. His eyes glowing blood red he yelled, RUN!. I turned and ran as fast as I could, haven a broken ankle slowing me down considerably.  The police would be at the main gate and that was my destination. I ran, and I ran, and I ran…………………………………..  I never looked back ..... JAM ....Jam .....jam..... i love you ......

Friday, October 28, 2011

Zombies.... fer realz .... and OxYcOnTiN

We joke, we laugh, we play, all about these zombie creatures.  This concept that was meant to mean one thing, but took on  a whole reality of it's own.  Supposedly it was originally a term to describe suit and tie, establishment kinda guys.  They were corporate zombies.  People that were "squares" going to work each and everyday, never changing their routines and wasting their lives away in a capitalistic struggle, to gain wealth and materialistic items.  These zombies just go on day after day, only living to survive until tomorrow, paycheck to paycheck.  They are technically alive, but they have never really lived.

Out of that idea emerged zombie monsters.  They are "living dead" creatures that were once living breathing people, just like us.  There are many reasons that they die and come back to "life," slowly walking the earth in an unrelenting search for living flesh to eat.  That's it, all they want is flesh, and brains.  Seems kinda scary, right?  Well it could be, but than again it might be a total blast.  Swords, knives and guns in an all out free-for-all to survive.  I'm in on that shit!

I am going to introduce you to a new zombie that just slowly walked it's way into my life.  I have known of these types of creatures for many years, but they were never so close to me.  We flirted with this type of disaster for decades as teens to young adults, always walking the line - never crossing it.  If you cross it you may not come back.   Let me introduce you to the scariest zombie of them all.  The monster hiding right next to you at work, a ball game, play, gas station, and even at the grocery store.......

It all started when I found an empty prescription bottle in my warehouse bathroom (Day 1).  It was just sitting there, top off like it was just finished being used.  I saw it and walked out.  It was not mine and was not my concern.  So many people use this bathroom and I was sure someone would return for it later.  Prescription drugs are expensive, of course they will come back for the bottle.

The next morning I had to use that bathroom, washed my hands and looked up and it was still there sitting on the shelf like "Hell~O!"  I looked at it longer this time, it was starting to intrigue me.  Why would anybody leave their prescription on a shelf in a very frequented bathroom?  I couldn't help it. I picked it up and it was empty.  I read the label, OH MY FUCKING GOD!!!!!!  It was for a woman that died 5 days ago, the owner's mother.  She was dead, buried in the ground and apparently still taking her medication.  This just proves what I was told years ago about a grandson.  It is Oxycontin or Oxycodone.  FUCK..... this is not something I should even know about, let along have to deal with.  You know, now I gotta deal.

Oxycodone, a narcotic, opiate, pain killa.  It changes the way your brain understands pain.  It is one of the most addictive prescription drugs there is.  That is even more true if you crush it up and snort it.  Oxycontin will straight up fuck you up, FUCK YOU UP!  I gotta repeat it since some of ya'll just don't know.  A variety of different pills that can change your perception of reality.  Many times turning the user into a human zombie.  They slowly wander around having no real concept of the world around them.  The drugs change them into a different kind of person.

I used to work with a guy that was addicted to Oxycodone.  He came in to work always talking about being in pain, usually the same pain, sometimes new pains.  He wandered aimlessly at times, just staring off into the distance.  He never closed his mouth, I don't even think he could.  Sometimes he would be sitting down and his head would drop down to the desk in front of him as he began to black out, then he would just pop back up like nothing had happened.  There was drool dripping out of his mouth sometimes.  He seemed like such a great guy when he was a little more sober.  I say more sober because he was always fucked up, sometimes less or more.  They offered to help him get treatment and he refused, said he had it under control.  Who could blame them, they fired him.  He and his wife had two kids as well, no income.  He was a Narcotic Zombie.

This is from

Prescription drugs are the second most commonly abused category of drugs, behind marijuana and ahead of cocaine, heroin, methamphetamine and other drugs. The National Institutes of Health estimates that nearly 20 percent of people in the United States have used prescription drugs for non-medical reasons.
Some prescription drugs can become addictive, especially when they are used in a manner inconsistent with their labeling or for reasons they were not prescribed. Those include narcotic painkillers like Oxycontin or Vicodin, sedatives and tranquilizers like Xanax or Valium, and stimulants like Dexedrine, Adderall or Ritalin.
Steroid abuse is also on the rise. Steroids are prescription drugs that are legally prescribed to treat a variety of medical conditions that cause loss of lean muscle mass, such as cancer and AIDS. Men consistently report higher rates of steroid use than women. In 2008, 2.5 percent of 12th grade males, versus 0.6 percent of 12th grade females, reported taking the drugs in the past year.
In 2000, about 43 percent of hospital emergency admissions for drug overdoses (nearly 500,000 people) happened because of misused prescription drugs. This type of drug abuse is increasing partially because of the availability of drugs, including online pharmacies that make it easier to get the drugs without a prescription, even for minors. 

I is no coincidence that the government does not want to admit there is a problem with prescription drug abuse.  A nation of Narcotic Zombies is so much easier to control.  What if everybody was on a "happy pill" or an "ADHD drug?"  They could just lead us around by the collar and tell us who to vote for and who to give all our money to, and we would do it.  They don't want to talk about legalizing "street" drugs either.  Many of them are safer for us than their prescription counterparts.  The big pharmaceutical companies have too much to lose.  They are very big contributors to the political campaigns of many politicians.  It is a shame that we have stopped caring about people, all in the name of political power.  Instead of helping mankind, they are enslaving it ........ fer realz ...... ZOMBIES.

Friday, October 21, 2011

of gangs and such......

Sometimes I wish I was back in California.  Not for the reasons most would think, though.  Yes, the weather is nice almost all year around.  There are the beaches, deserts, mountains, streams, lakes, national parks to explore, and so much more.  None of those are what I am thinking of today.  I could wax poetically for hours about flowers, cacti blossoms, Joshua trees, or cliffs overlooking rocky beaches and beautiful water.  Especially catching horned toad lizards in the desert, OH how I loved playing with them.  All that is for another day.
The second time we moved to California I was in the 9th grade, again.  I had an incomplete in Louisiana so I had to take my freshman year over.  The very first day of school I was walking to my 3rd period class.  I was a skateboarder, I dressed "different."  I had my black and white checkered Vans shoes on, a pair of very baggy cargo blue jeans, a white "I <3 COPS!" t-shirt and a blue Nike Swoosh baseball hat.  I knew clothes were a "status" symbol for a lot of people, but I didn't know anything about gangs.

A white guy at least 3 times my size bumped slam into me, almost knocked me flat on my ass.  He looked down at me like some kind of ogre, grabbed the blue Nike hat off of my head and threw it in the trashcan.  I was shocked, for a couple of seconds I couldn't even move.  Then my mouth opened and what came out was of pure stupidity on my part.  I bowed up and yelled, "DUDE!  WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!"  I stepped over to the trashcan, reached in grabbed my hat and put it back on my head.  When I turned around I saw about 10 guys standing directly around me and half the damn school was standing behind them.  The big guy said "You're new here aren't you, bitch?"  I swallowed my pride and tried not to act scared, never act afraid even in the worst OH SHIT moment you ever have.  I stepped toward him and said "No, I'm from New Orleans, Louisiana and my father is stationed at Camp Pendleton."

He smirked, and started to laugh.  I thought it was over, I was in the clear and would not be getting my ass beat today.  He tried to punk me and I stood up to him.  I was partially right.  In this weird Spanglish he said "Welcome to Fallbrook little guppie.  You ever walk down our hallway wearing BLUE colors again, you won't be walking out."  He grabbed my hat again and threw it in the trashcan, then he grabbed me and pushed me face first into the trashcan.  The trashcan fell over and I just stayed there kneeling, staring at him.  He said some shit in Spanish and he and his boys turned around and walked away.  The crowd dispersed and I turned around and walked away in the opposite direction. 

I had unknowingly gained some respect in that moment, even though I was almost shitting in my pants.  Later that day I was approached by another group of people........ the all had blue bandannas hanging out of their back pockets.  I moved around in California 4 or 5 more times with my parents.  I learned that a color could make you an adopted family member to people you may have never even met before.  Colors, races and territories became families, and family is the most protected thing in gang life.

Strength, honor and respect are cherished and applauded.  Lying, cheating, and stealing, are all sings of weakness.  I do not remember anytime in California that I had to wonder who my friends were.  No one lied to me or stole something that was not his/hers.  No one would dare to rat on you about drugs or illegal activity, even when they faced jail time.  If you fucked your homie's lady you better move or you would get beat down, maybe even killed.  When someone fucked up, they were taught a lesson.  If they did it again they were made an example of.

I was always kinda on the outside looking in.  I moved so much I could never really be "in" the inner circles of the gang life.  I was like the Jedi apprentice learning the basics of the force.  I know one thing, several of them fought with me and for me on different occasions and they barely even knew me.  Some of them treated me as a little brother just kinda to keep me out of trouble.  I respected them, and I tried to honor them every chance I got.  I know without some of their help I would have been stabbed or shot, just another statistic.  Well, I was stabbed.... just a cut though.

Do I miss the shootings, stabbings, beatings, drugs, weapons, police harassment, or being kicked out of high school?  FUCK NO!  It was terrible, so painful in body and spirit.  What I do miss is that I never had to question any one's loyalty.   No one ever pretended to be my friend while talking shit about me to anyone that would listen.  Here there is almost no one I can trust, no one to believe in.  Just when they gain your trust you realize there is something sharp poking you in the back.  Even better is when someone comes to you in confidence to tell you the horrible things your "friend" has been saying about you or another "friend."  How can you say someone is your "friend" while you tell everyone lies about them, behind their backs?

Friends don't call each other names behind their backs.  Friends don't tell other people about secret things you told them in confidence.  Friends do not tell other people that you area a horrible parent.  Friends do not try to get you to do immoral or illegal things.  Friends do not steal from you.  Friends do not try to manipulate you.  Friends do not try to interfere in your marriage.  Friends do not try to get you fired from your job.  Friends do not tell you about other friends problems.  Friends do not tell everyone that they are a victim, and try to make you look like a terrible person.

I guess you have never really been anyone's "friend."

Thursday, October 20, 2011

The Butterfly

Sometimes my mind will wander.  It can be far or near.  I might be looking straight into your eyes, but thinking about a waterfall in some foreign landscape.  I read things or hear them aloud and only retain bits and pieces of it.  I guess at times I just can't concentrate on the details, "just the facts ma'am."  It can be like looking at a puzzle missing some of the pieces.  Thing is they are not actually missing, I dismissed them for being unimportant to the overall point.  We fill everything with such bloated dribble.  I really enjoy when my mind decided to wander away.  It's a different perspective to a mind so jaded with information.

I am not trying to insult any one's intelligence, not one bit.  Let me give you an example.  My wife read me a 2 paragraph story last night.  This is what my mind focused on and this is my butterfly.

1939                                  Egg
Man and Woman               Larva

Married 72 Years              Caterpillar
Car Crash                         Chrysalis
Died Holding Hands          Butterfly

It is like a picture in my mind.  I could see it happening, a thing of beauty.  We are always growing, transforming, recreating ourselves in the hope that one day we can spread our wings to fly away and be truly happy.  Sometimes that happiness is fleeting and we must start the cycle all over again.  Some just give up and choose to live in misery.

What is a butterfly to me?  It symbolizes freedom, happiness and beauty.  It flutters by without a care in the world, just riding on the wind.  Many are so bright and colorful that even predators are afraid to touch them.  The float from flower to flower enjoying their sweet nectar, all the while they are pollinating and creating new life.  They take just what they need and then they move on, just like my mind searching for the good things, important things to take with me on my journey.  Oh look...... there goes a butterfly ..........

Friday, October 14, 2011

The doctor does not trust you ........

.......... with his money.

Today I awoke to a serious rash from head to toe and my gums are swollen and HURT. I am not new to skin issues, but this itchy thing of unknown origin somewhat shocked me. I decide I need to seek the help of an expert. My wife calls and makes me an appointment in Laurel, approximately 30 minutes away.

Off to work I go, only to leave 45 minutes later for the journey. It is a gorgeous day and the ride is as well. I am wondering if it is Chimaira's "The Infection" Cd slamming out of my sub woofers or the tires, causing the whole SUV to shake and vibrate.  I glance down and see 224152 on the odometer, no wonder.  I pull into the parking lot with 3 minutes to spare.

I walk into the office and my heart starts to race, this place is FULL not even a chair to spare and one guy leaned up against the wall.  How are they ever going to see me  at 9:30 today?  Hell, will I still be here tomorrow?  I walk slowly to the window and wait in line.  I see a big sign that says "We no longer accept Medicaid or Medicare patients, sorry for the inconvenience."  Yeah, I sure bet you are sorry.  I hear "ma'am I need you to sign our new records and insurance policy disclaimer.  Sir, I need you to sign our new records and insurance policy disclaimer."  I get a little closer and see it, the thing that sends my heartbeat into overdrive.

A sign reading "We do not accept debit cards or credit cards of any type.  Cash or Check only.  Payment in full due at time of visit."  OMG I thought, I drove all the way here for nothing, will they see me or not, who carries cash and checks anymore?  I ask the gatekeeper, "ma'am I am a regular patient is there anyway you can bill me for this visit?"  "No sir," she replied.  "Well I didn't know anywhere on the planet did not take debit cards or credit cards now a days."  "I know how you feel, it is crazy to me too, but there is a bank right across the street with an ATM.  I will hold you appointment time if you want to drive over there and get cash."  Ah, this gatekeeper was actually the true definition of A Lady.  My heartbeat slowed, and I became calm and rational again.  I ventured out into the parking lot to begin another adventure....... into the concreted wilderness.

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

In tha PIT!!!!

"Thrashing and slamming like hell in the pit, Tomorrow they know may not come.  Banging and moshing like they don't give a shit, To the rapid beat of the drum.  A boot to your forehead, a knee to your face.  Your nose and lips start to bleed.  Like a wild Indian from outer space, Drunk and high on weed!"  DRI - Thrashzone

Once upon a time......  Nah, whatever!  On our Anniversary this year we decided to go see Korn (HaHa, big surprise!) and Drowning Pool at Bayfest in Mobile.  We were about 6 people back from the stage in the beginning and ended up 3 people back from the stage during Korn.  Close enough to look them straight in the eyes.  We bounced up and down, head banged, swayed side to side, slammed into each other, bumped and grinded, dry fucked, got smushed, hit, pushed, pulled and had 2 different people fall on top of us that were crowd surfing.   All and all it was a great night. 
No, it was fucking awesome.  Korn has never disappointed.

Some advice:  You never want to be up against the barricade in the front because it gets really painful being smashed into that metal piece of shit.  Don't get more than about 8 rows of people back or you will be directly in the pit when it erupts.  Girl, boi, man, woman, baby, dog, or elephant, it just does not matter.  If you are in the pit you are a target.  Some people just want to sit and chill and listen to the music, they need to be way in the back, "playing the wall" we call it.  If you have never been to a metal concert before, you should be playing the wall.

So, if you should suddenly realize that you are in the pit and do not wish to be, here is what you do:
1. Put your arms up like you are ready to do some boxing, to protect your face.  People usually slam shoulder to shoulder only, but you never know.
2. Push forward through the people as far as you can toward the stage.
3. If you are trying to protect a woman she needs to be in front of you, people will move out of the way to let her get to safety.  DO NOT EVER try to go backwards to get out of the pit, you may end up laying on the ground being stomped into a crying, bloody mess.

This concert was kinda weird to us.  It was like there were a gang of people that did not know what was happening or what to do while the bands were playing.  They were looking around in shock and disbelief as people bumped into them.  I mean it really is called a "sea of bodies" for a reason.  Then there was the 40 something woman that stared each one of us down every time the band said a cuss word, and especially when we repeated it.

When you go see bands play with hit songs like: Let the bodies hit the floor, dead bodies everywhere, Shut the Fuck up Get Up, what the fuck do you expect?  When Jonathan Davis of Korn leads the crowd in a frenzied, enraged rendition of "Ya'll want a single, say FUCK THAT!"  you know what to expect.  While Drowning Pool was playing "Let the bodies hit the floor" the woman behind me, that we had been talking to, found herself to be on the edge of the pit.  She was not very happy to have been hit in the back several times.  When I heard her screaming I turned around to see her grab a guy by the collar of his shirt and start throwing punches at his face.  She did hit him several times, but not really hard enough to bother him.

This brings me to my last point:
4. Never take it personally if you get cussed, bumped, hit , kicked, or any of that at a metal concert.  Everybody there wants to unwind and have a good time.  No one is intentionally trying to hurt anybody.  I have even had people apologize if they think they may have offended, or injured me.  Not necessary, but appreciated.  I remembered the time I crawled out of the pit at a Danzig concert.  I got the shit knocked out of me being so short, and literally crawled all the way back to the wall.  Several people came to help me up.  I got a beer, caught my breath, and went back in.  No worries.

I was thoroughly impressed with Drowning Pools performance.  Very good band to go see live.  I think Korn sounded better than they ever have before.  I was just in awe of them.  Like I was saying when Jonathan led us in a 5 minute rendition of a 2 minute song,  of "Ya'll want a single," it became a frenzy.  The whole crowd (except for that one lady who was staring evil at me) had both their middle fingers up flipping him off, and he just smiled.  The louder we yelled "Fuck that, fuck that shit!" the bigger his smile got.  You could actually tell he was enjoying it just as much as we were.

I hope they come back again next year.  "ARE YOU READY!!!!!!!!!!!!!"  Yep, I am. 

Friday, October 7, 2011

Anniversary 8 - Infinity

 Here it is, well almost.  It is actually on the 12th, but we are gonna party like rock stars tonight.  "ARE YOU READY!!!!!!!"  Yes, Korn in concert tonight.  Korn was our first date and first concert together. I don't think we have missed one in the area yet.  Eight years we have been married, and some wonderful times we have had.  I think the last few years have been incredible.  We had to lose everything, all our material possessions, in order to find out what was really important to us.  Each other and our very close knit, little clan.

Yeah... "I'd catch a grenade for ya...."  My wife, my love, my best friend.  You said anniversaries don't need themes, but this one already has a theme song and back up dancers.  How many years did it take you to get rid of all my MC Hammer pants?  LMFAO!  I couldn't imagine what I would do without you.  It was hard to see in the beginning, with all the turmoil and struggle.  You were meant for me.  You have made me so happy and been such a wonderful mother for our children.  I love you!

The number 8 has many almost magical connotations.  I am only concerned with one, "The Lazy Eight" they call it, or "Infinity."  We have been married for 8 years, known each other longer, but we will be together forever.  There you go, maybe it will all make sense now.  Eight years, infinity, grenades (figure 8) and anniversaries, it's all there. 

Thursday, October 6, 2011

I'm a HaCk!.!.

I am a hack, a liar, a thief, a charlatan, a fake, a quack, a imitator, a duplicator and more.  I am the KING of deception in my own little world.  Everything I have ever said has been ripped straight from another's lips.  I borrow thoughts, images, words and ideas from everyone and everything in my environment.  The world is an open book, for me to click, copy and paste.

I am told I live the ultimate freedom.  I am an individual who works to create a "whole."  I can make all my own choices.  I often wonder if there really is any freedom.  All of our actions have been guided by what we are taught by our parents, social institutions, and peers.  When we rebel from what we are taught is "right" and stray off the path they provide, we become "problem" children.  Only to be sedidated, medicated, hospitalized or imprisoned.

Nothing is new.  It has all been done before.  I would love to take credit, but I really can't.  I am just another product.  Created, built, bundled, packaged, boxed, and shipped for the mass market.  We know it as society.  We each have a role to play; jock, socialist, slut, nerd, freak, punk, princess, skater, fag, communist, dork, fool, clown, porn star, etc.  We all have been labeled.  Just pass me under the bar code scanner and see who I really am.  Hopefully, once and a while it will come back with "Item not found."  "Price check on Jamboi."

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Just when you think you have figured it all out.

I have done great battles, fought great wars with my more liberal friends.  We have talked, argued and gave up.  Gone home bleeding and tattered, only to come back and fight again.  There seems to be no agreement between us.  I say we need to sit down and discuss the issues and come to a common ground.  They say we need to kill people and start over.  What The Fuck?

So I talked to a man the other day from Georgia.  He was a black truck driver, about 10 years older than me.  So why was this important to me?  He gave me hope and to me, hope is all you need.  Hope and change they said, we got some changes, but not good ones, and no hope.  These are parts of our conversation.  He will be plain print.  Keep in mind we are unloading boxes this whole time.

Good Afternoon. 
Hey, how is it going?
It is going very well, I have a large order for a James.
That is me, let me get my cart and we'll unload it.
We?  Probably gonna need some help.
Sorry, ain't got none.  It is just me in the warehouse these days.  Economy and all, they let my partners go.
Oh man, sorry to hear it.  We have had to cut back a lot too.  Especially since gas is always going up.
Yeah, I bet.  And these douche bags on TV and in the government keep saying the economy is getting better.  LOL.
I know, they don't seem to have a clue what it is like in the real world.  Hopefully in the 2012 elections we can pay them back.  I voted for Obama once, won't happen again.  Obama or McCain, yeah it was a very hard choice.  The economy just keeps getting worse and unemployment keeps going up.  Nothing the Democrats have done has slowed it down.  Before I forget, would you like to buy a candy bar for my daughters band, only $1.00?  They are using the money to buy some new uniforms.
Humm, let me think about it, a dollar is a dollar, you know?  I heard today they are planning on taxing the rich more to try and get the deficit under control.  Never going to work if they don't cut spending. 
I know, right?  The rich really don't give a damn what is going on because they are RICH.  Tax them 10% more, what do they care?  The poor and the lower class don't give a damn because they don't pay any taxes anyway.  So who gets screwed?  Me and you is who!  The middle and upper middle working class, we pay all the bills and we suffer the most when the economy tanks.
I'll buy that candy bar now.  I'd buy 2, but I really only have $1.00 until next Friday.  Ya know, it really is a shame.  We are the very people they talk about helping all the damn time, and all they ever do is hurt us.  I keep hearing that my generation will be the first to live worse that the previous.  Supposedly we will live shorter lifespans, make less money, etc.  Who's fault is it?  It is ours I think.  We let these over educated lawyer assholes destroy America.  I want my kids to do better.  I also want all these career politicians gone, retired, out to pasture.
Preach on my man, what kind of candy do you want?  Thanks for donating you last dollar.  I had better get to my next stop so I can get back early today.  I really enjoyed talking to you.
Hey, no problem.  It never hurts to help.  Have a safe journey back.


A poem from my childhood


An empty wallet,
          for a dream unfilled.
All those fantasies of love,
          are now so still.
That torment - the pain of loneliness,
          searches for it's next kill.
While we mortals,
          constantly search for our next thrill!

You never know a good thing,
          until you have lost it.
Ain't that the real shit?!?
         On a forrella tip.
We reach for the pipe,
          just one more hit.
To clear our heads,
          helping us maintain.
The slightest bits of sanity,
           hidden somewhere in our brains,
No matter how hard we try,
           we only struggle in vain.

Ain't nothing like the real thing.
          Hell Yeah, that's the saying.
For now I must refrain,
          I refuse to play this game.

Saturday, September 24, 2011

DUCK, not of the Anatidae type.

That's it.  You.are.out.of.control.
... I have become worried about my health, up in here (up in here).
....... The time has come.  For your own well being, and mine of course.
.............. It is in your best interest... to .... tO .....TO........
................... To hit the button.  You know the one.  It's forbidden.  "NO" they scream at you!
......................... It's bright red. RED from anger, *GURRRR*
................................ RED from blood, *OUCH*
..................................... I have found some kind of temporary sanity in this shit blood and cum on my hands. (tool)
........................... RED for EMERGENCY!!!
....................... There it is, begging to be pushed.
................. "Why won't you push me?"
.......... "All I need is for you to push me."
..... "PLEASE?!?!?!"
..Press and release the trained monkey counter attack. OH and don't forget,

Thursday, September 22, 2011

Sometimes, you have to wonder if it's worth it.

I am working in my warehouse when I hear "Hell Yeah!"  I pause and look for the offending offender.  I see him, coming out of my office door.  "What the hell are you yelling about?" I reply.  He says "They are going to raise taxes on the rich, up to 1.5 million dollars in income taxes.  That will lower the deficit." 

I hear Shao Khan in my mind "IT HAS BEGUN!"  This is so klassic it is predictable.  The Flaming Libtard against the Nazi Conservative Republican.   It has become a war of worlds, about 2 Democrats against 6 Republicans in our office.  My theory is that Republicans think using education, rationale and facts, which we put together to form an opinion.  Liberals use pure emotion to throw all the facts aside, hence the term bleeding heart liberal.

Now, back to our Mortal Kombat. I hear tax the rich and I think "Oh shit."  My best comeback is "We can't tax our way out of this recession or the deficit."  "It will sure help" he replies.  Meh.... (I pause for effect, it is like I am thinking of something brilliant to say.) I say, "No, the best way to fight the deficit is to cut government spending and revamp the entire tax code."  "Well if the republicans would allow us to bring the defense budget up for cuts we could balance the budget." *BAM*  His retorts are starting to sting.  "I will say that we should do away with the War on Terror and pull out of Afganistan, Lybia and Iraq, but we should never cut out home defense budget.  What will we do if we get attacked and we have no troops to fight?"  "What?  No country would ever attack America directly," he says.  "Well, what would stop them if we don't have a military to protect us?"  I say.

I suggest, "Why don't we stop sending billions of dollars to all these countries for Foreign Aid."  "We have to help those less fortunate than us" he says.  Stabbed in his bleedeing heart!  "What about all the people in America we don't help?"  I reply.  I will pull out that knife and stab again and again.  "There are women, men and children starving and homeless right now.  IN OUR OWN TOWN!" I yelled.  "Well if it wasn't for you war mongering republicans we would have plenty of money to feed our people."  "You people love making billions off of bodybags."  He tells me.  I have no more to say today.  To suggest that I want to see anyone dead cuts to the soul.  My ultimate goal, to see none suffering, is lost on him. 

I just leave, walk away.  I know this will go on 'til the end of time.  We will never agree on government, or budgets.

It hits me like a brick as I drive away.  I think I am bleeding............  internally.........  at least.  Why do I try so hard?  WHY!!!  I work my ass off to be taxed to death and watch people all around me do nothing.  Somehow, doing nothing gets you an all expense paid vacation curtosy of our very own governemnt.  Somehow, working you ass off to support your family also means you will be supporting several other families this year too.  I see you sitting on your front porch everyday.  Smoking cigarettes and drinking beer while I go to work to buy you food.  I see you there, every day ...... and I wonder if it is worth it.

Saturday, September 10, 2011

NOT .... so amusing

I just looked through a photo documentary of Jazzland, or Six Flags Over New Orleans to some of you.  It stands abandoned, falling to pieces, and being reclaimed by mother nature.  I hear rumor that there may be hope yet.  This is just how it made me feel.  Here is the Addy

I remember standing in line at some of those rides with my first son Gabe, now 11.  I especially remember the Spongebob ride because he liked it so much.  It is a horribly scary, eerie feeling to see it now. So surreal, like it had never even been finished being built, or fell victim to a nuclear war.  It stands a monument, a wasteland of our stupidity and arrogance.  No matter how advanced we become as a civilization, nature will always have the last laugh.  Especially around New Orleans.  So far below sea level, an artificially created trade port.  Someday it will all be underwater, again.

I can only wish my second child could have gotten the chance to go the amusement park.  His older brother would have been so proud showing him the rides he had rode years earlier.  I wonder if this is how my parents feel when they reminisce over the Pontchartrain Beach Amusement Park  So many people had such fun growing up near that beach, riding the roller coaster.  That tear my mom and dad both get in their eyes talking about how they felt when it was shut down.  We helped destroy that too, by polluting the lake until it was no longer safe to swim in.  They used to say they would love to be able to take me there to play, like they did.

I hate it that some of you have nothing better to do than bitch and argue over the use of photo editing software on those pictures.  If you were from the New Orleans area you would know that these pictures, no matter how much you edit them, can not make you feel as sad as we do every time we drive past that abandoned park.  Or how about the other 1/3 of New Orleans that has barely even been touched since Katrina flooded it.  There are still abandoned houses waiting to be torn down on my dad's street, 6 years later.  Those pictures, from the least to the most edited are absolutely beautiful.  Every single one captures a moment, a feeling, something lost and missing.  Ghosts of Jazzland.

We used to sit on Elysian Fields Avenue and wait for the Mardi Gras parades to reach us.  Filled with joy, unable to sit still.  Just hoping to get some of those worthless beads, better yet a cup (or the ultimate, some of that crew's panties).  Now we drive up and down looking at rotting, abandoned houses, with plywood over all the windows and large X's spray painted on them by the rescuers.  I sat and stared at the X's one day, wondering "What does that 1 or that 3 mean in that X?"  Then I quickly decided, I really didn't want to know.  We were finding dead animal carcasses in piles of debris, just a few months ago.  The skeletons of animals left behind that drowned to death.  Once peoples best friends, now nothing more than broken bone dust on the alleyway between the cracked foundations.  Many of those people, never to return.

I am going to go look for a pic of my son posing so happily with a giant plastic Spongebob.  That day to him, it really was "The best day ever."  I want to remember ...... I need to remember ....... all those Good Times.  If I can find it I will post it for you here, for long before all this devastation there was so much happiness.  So many screams of joy, and so many children's smiles.  Isn't that is all that is important, the children's smiles?

Sunday, September 4, 2011

A letter for a friend.

Someone said to me once "You are an amazing person....  I read the way you talk about your family..... the passion... the love.. it gives me hope..... Sometimes you write so beautifully...... Tell wonderful stories ..... People think I am crazy and sometimes I scare them because am very foreward and I want to tell them how I feel.....I hope you don't run away from me.... if you don't respond I will understand, thank you for sharing your life with us, etc."  I just blushed, turned bright red, and sat there staring at my computer.  I literally was speechless.  It made me feel strangely good.  No one other than my wife,  has ever complimented me like that, let alone someone I have never even met before.  I though "This is nuts, maybe I do know her and this is a test of some kind.  Maybe she is coming on to me and I am just too stupid to know it.  I wonder if she is in a nut house or something.  Normal people just don't act like that."

Then it hit me *BAM* like a oversized cooking pear right between the eyes (boi there is another story).  I am not like anybody else I know.  I don't even know what normal is and have never tried to "be" any thing in particular. We may share a lot in common, but not like this.  She some how got what I said.  There is a big difference between reading and comprehending or reading it and closing you eyes and feeling like you were there, you lived it with them.  How many people can you tell "I had to slay a dragon last night" and they would smile and completely understand?

I know, I know.  So Jam, what the fuck is your point?  I wrote her back that day, and do several times a week.  Not many people's lives do I actaully care about, not many at all.  Yet if I do not hear from her for a while, I tend to worry.

That night I thought and thought about what she had said and I came to a realization.  We don't tell people what we think about them very often, if at all.  We are quick to criticize, but not compliment.   Many times we wait til it is too late to confess our feelings.  So I did something.  I got on facebook and I wrote to someone "You and your husband are the strongest people I have ever known....... I have always looked up to you...."  The next morning I sat down first thing at work and wrote to someone else "I know I have never told you this, but I have always respected you and am very proud of your service to our country. ......."  The next one was "I am tired of all this petty bullshit, we were once the best of friends and we need to put all that shit behind us and get back on track....."   Another was on an anonomyous forum, "I admire how you can put my feelings into words in ways that I juast can't."  I have gotten very positive responces back.

She changed the very core of how I think about people.  It is not that I didn't respect, honor, or cherish them, no not at all.  I did and I do.  She made me realize that it is perfectly ok to tell them.  They need to hear it and it is up to them as to how they take it and what they do with it.  Other than our spouses and our family, we just do not tell people what they mean to us very often, if at all.

I worte these six paragraphs for 2 reasons.  One, is that I hope people will stop and take the time to tell someone else something good.  Even if it is something small, like "You make the best coffee."  Tiny things can make someone's whole day better.  Two, is that I wanted to say thank you to the person that opened my eyes.  So, to you I say Thank You.  I am very glad you sent me that message!