This is a short story I had to do for an advanced art project, way back as a freshman in high school. We were asked to write a poem or short story using only cutout words and letters from magazines. Serial killer note style. This thing was AWESOME and I kept it for a long time. It took an entire week of class to complete. If only I had gotten a scanner before all the glue melted away from the humidity. I can't remember where I got these ideas from, probably plagiarised as hell, but here goes............
-~-
Manhood
Taught not to cry and reveal my soft spots, a dream about Manhood! With a swell of confidence, I cried, "WATCH THIS!" I leaped into the air and the sun smashed into my eyes. I fell, plunging backwards, and sinking slowly underwater. A second before I floated to the surface, I listened for my father's applause, but I saw only a smirk. Now I realize it was a smile.
"A man is a man who can always look the same, no matter what plagues his tiresome soul." Least ways, that's what Pops said. I pull the Sony Walkman's music from my ears, as he remarks on the burning eyes of the man smacking the innocence, out of the young child.
I stood..... watching, as an old photograph fades back into the stream. In the photograph I am bundled up and warm, in a thick, padded jacket. My head is covered by a layer of animal fur, a sacrifice not soon to be forgotten. I hit at the air, I scowl..... lashing out and searching for a spark of what flickers inside!
Years ago, to stop the tears a bully had beaten out of me...... My father, with an easy twist of the wrist, whipped me into a man. The pain was gone, for there had never been a pain as bad as this new pain. His bear head and and heavy glasses torment my eyes. I did not cry anymore, and to this day I have not cried again.
In times of trouble I clam up and fizzle, like a hot, shaken Dr. Pepper. Only as I'd seen him do. HE IS A MAN! His father was a man, as was his father's father. Bottled up emotions hid truths. Alcohol festered anger in their hearts, and consumed them in fire. They died in pure silence, their spirits are finally free, grinding into Heaven.
I carry on, and OH, how I have learned to cry. My emotions no longer composed of pure ice. Sometimes..... for my father, I am still not allowed to cry. I thank you... I love you... Never my Daddy... Forever my Father... and your fucked up dream about Manhood!
-~-
A related vibe from a 2011 rap song, quote by Brotha Lynch Hung and COS, from the song "Spit it out."
I'm colder than the glacier
Even where my heart breaking
Everything aching can't repair myself
Every mirror in here broken like I can't stare at myself
I see clear through the smoke cause I got air in myself
But every time they give me rope they think I tear at myself
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
The Day My Earth Stood Still.
There I was laying in bed feeling like one hell of a cold was ravaging my whole body. Laying in bed, sniffling, snorting, coughing, aching and burning up. My phone rang, party rock anthem played and I heard a chime for a voicemail. I was feeling so bad I couldn't even reach the phone. I fell back to sleep. A little while later the phone rang again. Even in my delirious state I knew the phone ringing twice before 9am on a Sunday was bizarre. I looked and my father had called twice and sent a text message. Yes, my 68 year old Dad has learned to text! I read the text, "Your mother is very sick, please call her immediately." I jumped up and listened to the voice mails.
They are divorced, mom and dad, and mom lives by herself. For years she has smoked cigarettes and drank excessive quanties of alcohol. Other people would flat out say she is an alcoholic. Dad called her this morning and asked how she was doing and she said "I am going to lay down in this bed and die." He asked if she needed to go to the emergency room, and she said "I think so." She would NEVER say she wanted to go to the doctor unless something was VERY wrong. Dad was in Baton Rouge, 3 hours away, so he called me. I am still one hour away, but I can make it in 40 minutes flat. ;-)
I roll my nasty self out of bed and go straight to the hot shower to open up my passages a little, and breathe. I call dad back while getting dressed. We talk, I tell him I think I am going to have to go to the E.R. too. I get off the phone with him and call her. "Mom, are you OK?" I ask. "Jimmy, I am going to lay in this bed and die" she tells me. "No, no you are not, I am on my way to your house" I tell her. She tries to tell me not to come, but she knows she is not going to make it if I don't.
I talk to Kelly, my wonderful wife. I kiss my adorable kids Gabe, 12 and Max 2, goodbye. I know in my heart I will not be back for a while. I give Gabe the "you are now the oldest man in the house and you better help your mother out because she can't do it all by herself" speech. I bet every man on this planet has heard that speech at least once in their lives. I packed up a few clothes and necessities in my duffel bag and hit the road. I was so worried about what I would find all the way there. I normally went to see her every other Sunday. I would do anything she needed around the house and take her grocery shopping, then to Dollar General and usually to the package store. I was going to miss this Sunday because I was so sick, but I had to go anyway.
I got to the house and sat outside in the driveway for several minutes trying to get up my courage. The front door was locked, but I had a key. I went into the living room and immediately started choking. My mom has always raised birds, all the way from parakeets to green wing macaws. Birds constantly shed dust or dander. My mom has always been good about having about 10 air filters in the house and she cleaned the filters almost daily. It had obviously been a while. There was a layer of white powder on everything in the house. I had to go pee, so I went straight to the bathroom on what was once "my" side of the house. I walked through several spider webs. When I looked in the toilet I saw mosquito larvae filling the toilet bowl. I knew she was bad off then.
I went to her room and she was sitting on the edge of the bed with her purse in her hands. She was dressed and ready to go. I asked her if she could walk and she said she didn't know. I went back out and moved the SUV to the edge of the front door. I went back in and only by sheer stubbornness did she walk to the SUV, with my help. We set out for the closest emergency room. We chose North shore in Slidell, Louisiana because she had been seen there several times before. Little did we know the horrors we would find.
We went to the emergency room. During the initial check-in the nurse said she had an irregular heartbeat and brought her straight to a room in the back. She had several tests and was admitted to the hospital that afternoon. The next day they did a multitude of tests, EKG, chest x-ray, cat scan, all kinds of blood work. Tuesday came and the main hospitalist doctor came in. He said, "I did not want to have to tell you this, I have been trying for hours to find an easier way of saying it, but there isn't one, we are 90% sure you have Lung Cancer Mrs. Day." He said they were scheduling a bronchoscopy for the following morning. They would do a biopsy and send it off for results.
So there it was, the thing that no one wants to hear, Lung Cancer. Yet she smoked for 30 something years. She used to tell me she hoped I would come down one day and find her dead on the floor of her house. I guess she just never realized it was not that easy. This will apparently drag on for months, if not years. She has a urinary tract infection, phenomia, very low sodium count, dehydrated, malnourished, arterial fibrillation of her heart, and lung cancer. It has not been pretty so far, and they tell me the worst is yet to come.
So, there you have it.... The day my earth stood still. The day quite a few peoples lives changed because my mother wanted to kill herself. She refused to get any sort of help. She refused to enjoy any type of life with her grandchildren. She refused to to stop drinking or smoking. I have now taken a FM LA leave from my job to become a full time caregiver. She needs someone around 24 hours a day. My family has to suffer now, for her irrational behavior. They say she has to eat and drink all the nutrients and vitamins she can, because the radiation therapy will more than likely kill her. She has a tumor in her windpipe, and multiples inside her lungs.
Even after years of preparing, I was still floored by the news. I have seen this coming for almost 10 years. Yet, I still cried for an hour and an half straight on my drive back to Petal, Ms. I am starting to feel selfish, and at the same time ashamed of myself. I realize I have given up almost all of my life to care for her. It has put a very real hurt on my family. I have been fighting to keep my wife and oldest son happy. We are at times, drifting apart. I moved my mother into my house, which was already too small. We had to take away the youngest ones room, while we wait on an addition to the house. The stress is showing, even on the 2 year old who has cried himself to sleep for the last 3 nights.
There it is, the day my earth stood still, Sunday January 15th, 2012. Something people never seen to think about is, how much does your way of life affect your loved ones? I would imagine it is a lot more than you know, more than you will ever know, more than they will ever tell you. It is amazing how my mom always wanted to die, right up until they said she was dying. That is when she told the doctor "I want to live and spend more time with my grandchildren." Tonight she has called me into her room 4 times. She needed to pee she said. She can't even stand up without some help. I will help. She is my mom and I love her so much. I will be there for her, til the end, no matter how bad it is.
They are divorced, mom and dad, and mom lives by herself. For years she has smoked cigarettes and drank excessive quanties of alcohol. Other people would flat out say she is an alcoholic. Dad called her this morning and asked how she was doing and she said "I am going to lay down in this bed and die." He asked if she needed to go to the emergency room, and she said "I think so." She would NEVER say she wanted to go to the doctor unless something was VERY wrong. Dad was in Baton Rouge, 3 hours away, so he called me. I am still one hour away, but I can make it in 40 minutes flat. ;-)
I roll my nasty self out of bed and go straight to the hot shower to open up my passages a little, and breathe. I call dad back while getting dressed. We talk, I tell him I think I am going to have to go to the E.R. too. I get off the phone with him and call her. "Mom, are you OK?" I ask. "Jimmy, I am going to lay in this bed and die" she tells me. "No, no you are not, I am on my way to your house" I tell her. She tries to tell me not to come, but she knows she is not going to make it if I don't.
I talk to Kelly, my wonderful wife. I kiss my adorable kids Gabe, 12 and Max 2, goodbye. I know in my heart I will not be back for a while. I give Gabe the "you are now the oldest man in the house and you better help your mother out because she can't do it all by herself" speech. I bet every man on this planet has heard that speech at least once in their lives. I packed up a few clothes and necessities in my duffel bag and hit the road. I was so worried about what I would find all the way there. I normally went to see her every other Sunday. I would do anything she needed around the house and take her grocery shopping, then to Dollar General and usually to the package store. I was going to miss this Sunday because I was so sick, but I had to go anyway.
I got to the house and sat outside in the driveway for several minutes trying to get up my courage. The front door was locked, but I had a key. I went into the living room and immediately started choking. My mom has always raised birds, all the way from parakeets to green wing macaws. Birds constantly shed dust or dander. My mom has always been good about having about 10 air filters in the house and she cleaned the filters almost daily. It had obviously been a while. There was a layer of white powder on everything in the house. I had to go pee, so I went straight to the bathroom on what was once "my" side of the house. I walked through several spider webs. When I looked in the toilet I saw mosquito larvae filling the toilet bowl. I knew she was bad off then.
I went to her room and she was sitting on the edge of the bed with her purse in her hands. She was dressed and ready to go. I asked her if she could walk and she said she didn't know. I went back out and moved the SUV to the edge of the front door. I went back in and only by sheer stubbornness did she walk to the SUV, with my help. We set out for the closest emergency room. We chose North shore in Slidell, Louisiana because she had been seen there several times before. Little did we know the horrors we would find.
We went to the emergency room. During the initial check-in the nurse said she had an irregular heartbeat and brought her straight to a room in the back. She had several tests and was admitted to the hospital that afternoon. The next day they did a multitude of tests, EKG, chest x-ray, cat scan, all kinds of blood work. Tuesday came and the main hospitalist doctor came in. He said, "I did not want to have to tell you this, I have been trying for hours to find an easier way of saying it, but there isn't one, we are 90% sure you have Lung Cancer Mrs. Day." He said they were scheduling a bronchoscopy for the following morning. They would do a biopsy and send it off for results.
So there it was, the thing that no one wants to hear, Lung Cancer. Yet she smoked for 30 something years. She used to tell me she hoped I would come down one day and find her dead on the floor of her house. I guess she just never realized it was not that easy. This will apparently drag on for months, if not years. She has a urinary tract infection, phenomia, very low sodium count, dehydrated, malnourished, arterial fibrillation of her heart, and lung cancer. It has not been pretty so far, and they tell me the worst is yet to come.
So, there you have it.... The day my earth stood still. The day quite a few peoples lives changed because my mother wanted to kill herself. She refused to get any sort of help. She refused to enjoy any type of life with her grandchildren. She refused to to stop drinking or smoking. I have now taken a FM LA leave from my job to become a full time caregiver. She needs someone around 24 hours a day. My family has to suffer now, for her irrational behavior. They say she has to eat and drink all the nutrients and vitamins she can, because the radiation therapy will more than likely kill her. She has a tumor in her windpipe, and multiples inside her lungs.
Even after years of preparing, I was still floored by the news. I have seen this coming for almost 10 years. Yet, I still cried for an hour and an half straight on my drive back to Petal, Ms. I am starting to feel selfish, and at the same time ashamed of myself. I realize I have given up almost all of my life to care for her. It has put a very real hurt on my family. I have been fighting to keep my wife and oldest son happy. We are at times, drifting apart. I moved my mother into my house, which was already too small. We had to take away the youngest ones room, while we wait on an addition to the house. The stress is showing, even on the 2 year old who has cried himself to sleep for the last 3 nights.
There it is, the day my earth stood still, Sunday January 15th, 2012. Something people never seen to think about is, how much does your way of life affect your loved ones? I would imagine it is a lot more than you know, more than you will ever know, more than they will ever tell you. It is amazing how my mom always wanted to die, right up until they said she was dying. That is when she told the doctor "I want to live and spend more time with my grandchildren." Tonight she has called me into her room 4 times. She needed to pee she said. She can't even stand up without some help. I will help. She is my mom and I love her so much. I will be there for her, til the end, no matter how bad it is.
Friday, January 13, 2012
People Equal Shit
It is a jazz cover, absolutely amazing.
People do equal shit in the broad scheme of things, manure to fertilize the ground. Food for the maggots and worms. No matter how poor or rich, lowly or important, weak or strong, we will all be reduced to compost.
Why does it matter? There is a beginning and an end to life. We have no idea how long it will last, do we? You can talk about living to the ripe old age of ___ (insert desired number here). Some may take a different approach, saying things like "I want to go out with a bang" or "I want to die before my body deteriorates into a pile of mush." My favorite saying is "I want to go out while I am having sex, right as I reach an orgasm." Do you know how fucked up that is going to be to your partner? Scarred for the rest of their lives!!! "Yeah, but I will die one happy son of a bitch!" You could be reading this on your smart phone right now, not see the open manhole cover in front of you and fall, screaming to your death. We just don't know when Azrael will come to take us away from this mortal plane.
My point is this; We have no idea how long we are going to live, so it is what you do in between that counts. Why act like a piece of shit while you are alive, when you will be one when you die? We all have to make choices every day. Why not choose to be nice and helpful to your fellow mankind? No one makes anybody be mean or hurtful, it is just a choice. Life is so much more enjoyable when we treat each other with compassion and respect. I choose to like everybody, until they give me a reason not to. Even then I may still give them another chance.
To me it seems like hard work being mean and nasty to people. My mother has worked so hard to make herself miserable. She works even harder to try and make the rest of us miserable. With so many blessings in her life, she will not open her eyes to see them. I know I don't have to do much to be nice, a smile here or a few words of appreciation there. Not hard at all. Smiles are contagious, you know?
Why does it matter? There is a beginning and an end to life. We have no idea how long it will last, do we? You can talk about living to the ripe old age of ___ (insert desired number here). Some may take a different approach, saying things like "I want to go out with a bang" or "I want to die before my body deteriorates into a pile of mush." My favorite saying is "I want to go out while I am having sex, right as I reach an orgasm." Do you know how fucked up that is going to be to your partner? Scarred for the rest of their lives!!! "Yeah, but I will die one happy son of a bitch!" You could be reading this on your smart phone right now, not see the open manhole cover in front of you and fall, screaming to your death. We just don't know when Azrael will come to take us away from this mortal plane.
My point is this; We have no idea how long we are going to live, so it is what you do in between that counts. Why act like a piece of shit while you are alive, when you will be one when you die? We all have to make choices every day. Why not choose to be nice and helpful to your fellow mankind? No one makes anybody be mean or hurtful, it is just a choice. Life is so much more enjoyable when we treat each other with compassion and respect. I choose to like everybody, until they give me a reason not to. Even then I may still give them another chance.
To me it seems like hard work being mean and nasty to people. My mother has worked so hard to make herself miserable. She works even harder to try and make the rest of us miserable. With so many blessings in her life, she will not open her eyes to see them. I know I don't have to do much to be nice, a smile here or a few words of appreciation there. Not hard at all. Smiles are contagious, you know?
Thursday, January 12, 2012
I C U
It is a song title. I am relating everything these days to music. It is not really about this topic, but still a great song if you like dark, mind bending Hip Hop from a man that claims to be a crip and a real life cannibal. His point is that somebody is always watching you. When you least expect it they are going to take vengeance for all the horrible things you have done. (If that bothers you, your conscience is talking and you may need to reevaluate your actions, just saying.)
Here is the point. We have been working out at the YMCA for months trying to get into better shape. That quitting smoking thing really killed me. I gained like 40 pounds in about a year. Healthier in one way, not in another. "Oral fixation" they call it. I constantly search for something to suck or chew on. I actually think I am a lot better on that front now. Knowing is half the battle.
So, about a week ago we went to the Y and could not find anywhere to park. Then we got inside and all of the machines we like to use were full. We tried several times of the day and they were still full. I asked some of the people working there about it and they say it happens every year. New Year's resolutions! Then after a month or so people just start disappearing. It has been about 2 weeks and there are still way too many people. It is really starting to get aggravating. It costs up $60 a month to be members. Is that "acceptable" or "satisfying" when we can not even get to do what we want? ;-) No.
Here is what I have found and the reason I am so pissed off about this. I was listening to this song when it hit me and I thought..... "Nigga, I see you" Standing there in your very expensive running shoes, very expensive workout outfit, expensive cutie workout jacket, expensive Nike or Addidas hat, wearing your little workout gloves (that match your outfit), with full makeup on, your hair did and full jewelry on. You have been here every time I have 4 days a week for 2 weeks. I have not seen you were the same outfit or shoes yet. That is quite an investment in apparel and time. Let me just say I am not only talking about the women either. Guys do it too, just maybe not the makeup.
I can see your faces while you are reading this. "What is your problem Jam, they just want to look good at the gym?" Yep, that is it. They just want to look good at the gym, because they are definitely not fucking working out. They stand around and talk and gossip, "So how is your mama and 'em?" They are standing there blocking the machines, or worse, pretending to be using the machine when they are actually just sitting on it. I have watched people get on an elliptical machine or bicycle for a grand total of 3 minutes. You can get more exercise getting off the couch, walking to the kitchen, grabbing a beer and walking back to the couch.
When I first noticed it I thought maybe it was just the single people looking for love. Nope, most are married. The women really seem to take pride in blinding people with their wedding rings at every chance. Then I thought that it is possible that 3 minutes is all you can do since you are so out of shape. Nope, one lady was talking about how she ran 3 miles every morning, then came to the gym every evening.
In closing, what does it all mean? I was always told you had to have a closing paragraph in English class and here it is. I really don't know what it means, but I really wish you people would go the FUCK outside or at least to the hallway with all the chitter~chatter and bull shit. Some of us really do want to use that $10,000 dollar piece of exercise equipment you are sitting at, leaving butt juice all over while you ask about somebodies pet hamster. Dammit!!!! I am not the only one either. I was talking to a guy tonight and he said "I C U 2!"
Here is the point. We have been working out at the YMCA for months trying to get into better shape. That quitting smoking thing really killed me. I gained like 40 pounds in about a year. Healthier in one way, not in another. "Oral fixation" they call it. I constantly search for something to suck or chew on. I actually think I am a lot better on that front now. Knowing is half the battle.
So, about a week ago we went to the Y and could not find anywhere to park. Then we got inside and all of the machines we like to use were full. We tried several times of the day and they were still full. I asked some of the people working there about it and they say it happens every year. New Year's resolutions! Then after a month or so people just start disappearing. It has been about 2 weeks and there are still way too many people. It is really starting to get aggravating. It costs up $60 a month to be members. Is that "acceptable" or "satisfying" when we can not even get to do what we want? ;-) No.
Here is what I have found and the reason I am so pissed off about this. I was listening to this song when it hit me and I thought..... "Nigga, I see you" Standing there in your very expensive running shoes, very expensive workout outfit, expensive cutie workout jacket, expensive Nike or Addidas hat, wearing your little workout gloves (that match your outfit), with full makeup on, your hair did and full jewelry on. You have been here every time I have 4 days a week for 2 weeks. I have not seen you were the same outfit or shoes yet. That is quite an investment in apparel and time. Let me just say I am not only talking about the women either. Guys do it too, just maybe not the makeup.
I can see your faces while you are reading this. "What is your problem Jam, they just want to look good at the gym?" Yep, that is it. They just want to look good at the gym, because they are definitely not fucking working out. They stand around and talk and gossip, "So how is your mama and 'em?" They are standing there blocking the machines, or worse, pretending to be using the machine when they are actually just sitting on it. I have watched people get on an elliptical machine or bicycle for a grand total of 3 minutes. You can get more exercise getting off the couch, walking to the kitchen, grabbing a beer and walking back to the couch.
When I first noticed it I thought maybe it was just the single people looking for love. Nope, most are married. The women really seem to take pride in blinding people with their wedding rings at every chance. Then I thought that it is possible that 3 minutes is all you can do since you are so out of shape. Nope, one lady was talking about how she ran 3 miles every morning, then came to the gym every evening.
In closing, what does it all mean? I was always told you had to have a closing paragraph in English class and here it is. I really don't know what it means, but I really wish you people would go the FUCK outside or at least to the hallway with all the chitter~chatter and bull shit. Some of us really do want to use that $10,000 dollar piece of exercise equipment you are sitting at, leaving butt juice all over while you ask about somebodies pet hamster. Dammit!!!! I am not the only one either. I was talking to a guy tonight and he said "I C U 2!"
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Cat~Sup
What? You actually beLIEved it was made from just tomatoes?
I am going to write a blog today and post it! That is my new short term goal. Nothing else matters until it is complete. It is not that I have not been writing, I have. I just never can come to an acceptable "The End" in my mind. Therefore, I have 20 unfinished blog posts saved. Gurrrrrrr......
Gurrrrrr is right. I am somewhat sad, a little bit worried, and a whole hell of a lot curious. Two bloggers that I have been following for some time now, just up and quit. No warning, no explanation.... just *pOoF* and they are gone. I never thought blogging would become a hobby, let alone an obsession at times. In fact, I used to just plain think blogging was stupid and the people that did it were losers with no lives. I have since changed my entire perspective on the subject.
It is wonderful to be able to share common experiences, feelings, art, music, etc with other people. It is even more enjoyable for me to learn new things. I have to admit I have learned a lot about myself, other people and cultures on this here site. Words, they are just words. They are, but they are not "just words." Words can be the most powerful thing in the world. They can make you so happy you feel like you grew wings and are flying with the angels. They can make you so sad that you want to slit your wrists, and hope everyone forgets you ever existed. Yeah..... "just words." Whatever you do just remember this, use your words wisely. Words cut to the bone like a razor, yet can mend wounds like a mothers loving embrace.
To those that left, your words will be missed. To those new ones that join, we have been waiting to hear from you. To everybody, thanks for sharing your lives with me. I want to give all of you a gold star for your effort! just a little jamboi.............
I am going to write a blog today and post it! That is my new short term goal. Nothing else matters until it is complete. It is not that I have not been writing, I have. I just never can come to an acceptable "The End" in my mind. Therefore, I have 20 unfinished blog posts saved. Gurrrrrrr......
Gurrrrrr is right. I am somewhat sad, a little bit worried, and a whole hell of a lot curious. Two bloggers that I have been following for some time now, just up and quit. No warning, no explanation.... just *pOoF* and they are gone. I never thought blogging would become a hobby, let alone an obsession at times. In fact, I used to just plain think blogging was stupid and the people that did it were losers with no lives. I have since changed my entire perspective on the subject.
It is wonderful to be able to share common experiences, feelings, art, music, etc with other people. It is even more enjoyable for me to learn new things. I have to admit I have learned a lot about myself, other people and cultures on this here site. Words, they are just words. They are, but they are not "just words." Words can be the most powerful thing in the world. They can make you so happy you feel like you grew wings and are flying with the angels. They can make you so sad that you want to slit your wrists, and hope everyone forgets you ever existed. Yeah..... "just words." Whatever you do just remember this, use your words wisely. Words cut to the bone like a razor, yet can mend wounds like a mothers loving embrace.
To those that left, your words will be missed. To those new ones that join, we have been waiting to hear from you. To everybody, thanks for sharing your lives with me. I want to give all of you a gold star for your effort! just a little jamboi.............
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.
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 in.....it 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 .........
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 in.....it 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 .........
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.
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.
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