Saturday, December 31, 2011

Jack Saved a Life

The day he saved a woman's life
was the day Jack ended his
An end to all the nothings
and the useless things he did

As he jumped across the rocks
to catch her by the arm
he understood when saving her
that for himself there was no alarm

When all of the adrenaline
was finally all gone
he sat alone at end of day
and wondered what was wrong

His strength it had not failed him then
but fail him now it seemed to do
what good are powers, he thought alound
without a love that's true.

With that he lay upon his bed
eyes closed on New Year's Eve
He'd swallow a form of kryptonite
and never even grieve

And when his eyes opened again
to look upon the bright new year.
His heart had hardened into stone
and the world would learn to fear

A hero no more to anyone
without love there's naught to do
No more rescuing damsels in distress
The newborn villain would do what he wanted to.

Saturday, December 17, 2011

Chill

I close my eyes and see you standing on a farm somewhere,
I can see your breath as you work to warm up from the chill that's in the air

Is there a tear in your eye because of me? I hope it isn't so
It hurts right now but it's better this way, and yes indeed, I'd know

Spend time with those you love the most, don't worry about me
I'm not ready right now, I'm sorry dear, because I don't know when I'll be

Just Have Fun

And as the blood dripped down Jack's sinister visage, Alex looked on in disappointment. He knew that he'd lost control.


Jack was let loose on the town and nothing would be the same.

Or so Jack had thought.

"What the hell happened to you," asked Alex as Jack stumbled through the door. "You look like shit."

Jack glared at him. He removed his tie, tossing it on the floor. Lifting his shoe, he tried to take it off, wobbled and fell on his face.

"What did you do last night?"

Jack took a moment to compose himself. He sat up without a word, touched his nose with a hand to make sure it wasn't bleeding, and continued to removed his shoes. Tossing them aside he leaned back on his hands. Bleary eyed, he looked up at Alex.

"I have no idea."

"That good, huh," said Alex with a smile.

Jack did not smile. He continued to stare at Alex for a bit before closing his eyes. He took a deep breath, held it for four seconds, then exhaled as his meditation practices had taught him. It was supposed to help calm him and cleanse his spirit.

Alex cocked an eyebrow at this. It didn't look to him like it was working.

"I woke up in my car this morning."

He couldn't help himself. Alex burst out laughing. "You mean this afternoon?"

Jack was not amused. "Yeah. This afternoon."

"And you have no clue what went on last night?"

"No, but there is one thing," said Jack. He hesitated.

"And what's that," asked Alex, suddenly intrigued. He had thought that something was being held back.

"There's a girl in my car."

This was a turn of events. Whether it was a good or bad turn required a few more questions.

"Is said girl still alive?"

Jack looked shocked. "Of course she is!"

Alex laughed. "Just making sure. So...did you use protection?" The grin on his face told Jack that he was being messed with. He was in no mood for being messed with.

His glare would have melted an iceberg. It only made Alex laugh harder.

"Well what are you doing in here? Did you at least talk to her?"

"Yeah, I talked to her," said Jack with a sigh. "I told her I'd come in here, change and get her home."

"Well who is she," asked Alex.

"Her name is Kathryn," Jack replied. "She seems nice enough. Said nothing went on last night and that I shouldn't be worried about anything."

"But you left her out in the car? And here I always thought you were a gentleman."

Annoyed, Jack replied, "I invited her in, but she said she'd wait. God man, stop messing with me."

"Alright, alright. Well," Alex wondered, "is she a looker?"

Jack's sudden grin said plenty. "Yeah, she is. She's the bartender at the place I was at last night."

"No kidding? Another bartender?"

Jack didn't like the implication. "Come on dude. I told you nothing happened. Plus, she's like twice my age."

Now Alex burst out laughing. "Like that would ever stop you!"

"Yeah, yeah."

After letting his laughter die down a bit, Alex could tell that something was on his friend's mind. He knew commenting on her occupation would dig up old wounds. In hindsight, it probably wasn't one of his better ideas.

"Look," said Alex. "I'm sorry that I mentioned the bartender thing. You guys must have had fun, though, right?"

Jack smiled. "Yeah. She said that when her ride didn't show up I offered to take her home. I thought I needed to sober up a bit first, so we just sat and talked. I guess we both fell asleep."

He blushed a bit at this. Jack knew he wasn't much of a talker, but once he got going he worried that was a bit boring. Still, she'd stayed with him the whole night. He must have been somewhat engaging.

"Do you like her?"

The question hung in the air. It had been a pretty long time, so shouldn't he be ready to move on? He just wasn't sure.

"Listen," said Alex, taking his silence for what he knew it meant. "Don't pursue anything right now. That's probably a terrible idea. But it couldn't hurt to hang out with her."

He let the thought sink in for a moment. He didn't want Jack to rush anything, and he could see that while he wasn't over everything, he was doing much better most of the time. The instances of  complete breakdown were growing few and farther between.

"Besides," Alex continued. "You need to talk to someone other than me. I have a life too, ya know."

He said it with a smile, which brought a grin to Jack's face. He stood up and starting walking toward his bedroom to change.

"I suppose you're right," he said. "It couldn't hurt to have someone else to talk to."

He shut the bedroom door, stripped off his shirt, pants, and socks. He donned clean clothes, put on some deodorant, then heading back out to the living room.

Once again, Alex was gone already. He smiled and went to put on his shoes. When he sat down to put them on, he spotted a note that Alex must have left for him.

Take your time. I'll be here for you. For now, just have fun and make some friends (other than me for God's sake!)

- Alex

Jack smiled after finishing the note. He slipped on his shoes and stepped out the door.

Monday, November 28, 2011

Sinking feeling

Our freedoms are in danger
I ask you, heed the call
A handful are funding censorship
and ruining it for us all

It isn't just the pirates
or those who traffic in IPs
But legitimate folks will lose their rights
Don't believe? Ask the Chinese.

So please talk to your Congressmen
And tell them "Don't you dare"
It's by the people, for the people
Not just those with cash to spare.

 Get informed@
americancensorship.org

Saturday, November 26, 2011

In a Mood

"You spoke to Anne last night, huh" asked Alex. His calm gaze was leveled on Jack, who stood leaning against his kitchen counter. Jack stared down at the floor, his face grim.

"Yeah," he whispered. His eyes remained lowered, but he held out a notebook.

Alex took it, but never took his eyes from Jack. "What's this?"

"I was in mood," said Jack, looking up and locking eyes with his old friend. "What else was there to do but write?"

He began to pace his kitchen; a caged tiger of emotion. "My love has not faltered in all this time. And the pain of it does not whither. She tells me of exploits without understanding how much it pains me to hear them."

His pacing came to a sudden halt. A kind of agonized reality seemed to have struck him. Grief, like a larval worm, began the slow climb across his face. "Or perhaps she simply doesn't care."

"No," said Alex, his tone firm. "I know how much you love Anne. You don't mean that. She would never, ever do that to you."

"I hope you're right."

"I am. Now shut up and let me read this stuff."

Jack sighed and walked out the door to have a cigarette. Alex made himself comfortable on the floor, opened the notebook, and began to read.



****
Grace

Crimson tears flow down my arms
in memories of long ago
Grow up young man, grow up, grow up
No longer will they flow
Embrace this life you grew to loathe
allow yourself to know
that scars will fade and memories too
if you learn to just let go
Open your heart, forgive yourself
for errors of the past
Allow your soul to move along
the pain it will not last
Pray for me now I beg, I plead
that grace will see me through
For without the grace of heaven I fear
that I'll be lost to you.


Reflections

My doppelganger prays for me
each time that I walk past
I see the worry on his face
in his eyes beyond the glass.

The tears that silently roam his face
are tears he weeps for me
"You aren't as bad as I," he says.
"Why can't you seem to see?"

I look into his eyes for hours
before giving my reply
"It wasn't you who failed them all.
It was my fault. It was I."

Repentance

Apologies to mom and dad
apologies to my brother and son.
Apologies to those touched by my life
and the foolish things I've done.
Apologies to God for being
less that I could be.
Apologies to all of you
but most of all to me.

Forgive

You've blessed me with my life, oh Lord
Showed me love and grace
Put people in my life who cared
And filled an empty space.


But I've pushed them all away, oh Lord
Though you taught me how to live
It's not your fault, it's mine alone
And I must learn to forgive -


Myself for all the foolish words
I spoke without a thought
Myself for all the lies I've told;
I've got me now, I'm caught.


Please teach me how to do this, Lord
Please help me see the way
Forgiving myself is my only chance
To go on another day


I ask this of you now, oh Lord
I fear it cannot wait
Please teach me to forgive myself
before it is too late


Without You

Where did you come from and why now?
Of the billions on the earth, why you?
What miracle brought you to me, love
and without you now, what will I do?


When you are gone the sun won't shine
without you my heart won't beat
You were the missing puzzle piece
that made my soul complete.


There is no warmth within my world
now that you've gone away
And I question my own sanity
for rain tickles my cheeks on a clear, blue day


Where have you gone to and why now?
Of the billions on this earth, why she?
Why did I have to lose such love
and with it part of me?


Simple Rule

Roses have thorns to protect them from
the bumbling hands of fools
But roses can be cradled close
if you follow this short rule:


Treat them with love and a gentle touch
and soon enough you'll see
That roses can be folded close to your heart
when held delicately
****


Jack walked back into his apartment. He took one last drag before casting the cigarette butt out the door. Alex was nowhere to be seen. This wasn't entirely unexpected. The man was better than Houdini when it came to baffling escapes.

The notebook was on the kitchen counter, opened to the last poem. Below it was scribbled a message. Jack sat down to read.

Hey bud,

I enjoyed these. I especially liked the first one because I'm glad that you pick up a pen now, rather than a modeling knife. It also brings me joy to know that you remain optimistic, even it carries a weight of sadness.

Forgiveness will come in time. Whether you believe it or not, I can assure you that it will.

I will say that your writing is improving, though it is not without its flaws. I'd have chosen some different wording on a few of these, but I realize that when you let your thoughts flow from the heart, word choice isn't always what matters.  

What matters is that you started writing again. I think that it's a kindness to yourself, and to any who might read your words and know they're not alone. 

And you are not alone, either, my old friend. I love you dearly and wish for nothing but your happiness. I will always be here for you. No matter what.

- Alex

Jack mulled over the words of his oldest friend. A slight smile touched his lips. He closed the notebook.

Fall asleep with me again

I fall in love with you each time I hear your quiet voice
An ache inside of me, a hope that
maybe someday
you'll realize what you mean to me
or perhaps simple grace will lead you back
understand that I didn't mean to cause you pain and
remember that my promise to you is complex, yet completely
simple.

Always

Monday, November 21, 2011

Divine Prerogative

Sono il tuo schiavo

In the candle lit darkness of the small room, he knelt at his altar in worship. The marble Goddess, unmoving and cold, gazed down at him with dead, eyes. In the stillness of the night, he offered a prayer.

There, on his hands and knees, he began first by kissing her feet. With a gentle touch of his lips he kissed each toe. A light touch of his finger tips massaged her ankle, her calf.

His kiss made a slow ascent, following his fingers' touch.

"You are my Goddess," he whispered after each soft kiss. "Sono il tuo schiavo."

His breath was soft, slow. To breathe otherwise might make this apparition fade away. Become a memory.

He rose with slow purpose, to his knees while kissing those of the Goddess. Embracing her legs, caressing her his lips glided to her thighs. Soft and quiet were his breaths onto those thighs.

Was it his imagination? Were those goosebumps on his Goddess' legs?

His prayers were being answered. This deity, this idol was coming to life. With each kiss, each loving touch of his fingertips, his Goddess awakened.

As his lips moved with love up her thigh, he whispered, "You are my Goddess. Sono il tuo schiavo."

Still on his knees, but upright, he breathed in the scent from between her legs. His pulse quickened but he maintained his deliberate pace. He planted quiet little kisses, little sparks of love. After each press of his lips, a light flick of his tongue. And as his hands traced the gentle contours of her thighs and rump, he spoke his mantra.

"You are my Goddess. Sono il tuo schiavo."

He raised himself up now, and pressing his lips against her soft stomach he felt the Goddess shiver. A gentle sigh escaped from her lips. She was coming to life.

His arms embraced her cold waist, then he began to rise up. He stood now, staring into those eyes and thought he saw a spark of life. His hands glided up her sides, making their way to her shoulders. His thumbs felt the suppleness of her breasts ans they eased past.

With a light touch, one hand rested on her shoulder. The other hand he raised to her face, caressing her soft cheek. He ran his fingers through her silken hair, hooking it behind her ear.

She had come to life. His prayers had been answered. He smiled and in supplication spoke again.

"You are my Goddess. Sono il tuo schiavo."

Down her arms his fingertips slid. The very light touch caused the Goddess to close her eyes and tilt back her head. A quiet moan of enjoyment grew in her throat. She shivered just as he took up her hands.

He raised her hands to his lips. He kissed them, one after another. He massaged the joints of her slender finger just as he had massaged her ankles, her knees. And he praised the divine flesh between each finger with a tender kiss, a light flick of his tongue and a soft breath.

Lowering her hands, he wrapped her arms around his waist and moved close. Releasing her hands, he entwined her in his own. He kissed her shoulders, her neck. Each peck planted was one of pure love, love that he hoped would grow. Sighs of pleasure escaped her lips.

They were pressed together now, looking into each others eyes. Running his fingertips along the back of her neck, his hand made its way through the soft forest of her hair. His touch was soft as he held head, when he spoke once more.

"With every part of me, I worship you. You are my Goddess. Sono il tuo schiavo."

He began to inch his lips toward hers. Anticipation of the flame that would erupt inside of him made his heart flutter. Love for the Goddess was an addiction for him, a need and no drug made by man was comparable.

She was the most loving, the most beautiful thing on this earth or in heaven to him. She was the sun, moon, stars, and all of the cosmos wrapped into the perfect form. A form made just for him.

He thought.

As their lips neared, he felt it. The warmth seemed to fade. Her hands came away from him and her head tilted back.

He saw in her eyes now a look of recognition. Sadness, mixed with fear perhaps, filled the void where for a moment their had been life. She began to stiffen; transforming from that soft, cool flesh he loved into the cold, hard marble once again.

Tears began to fall down his cheeks. They matched those upon the Goddess' face. With the last breath that would escape from her once living lips, she whispered her eternal, damning judgement.

"No. Not for us."

He fell hard to the floor, pain blazing fire through his knees. He pounded his fists on the ground until they were bloodied and broken. His face was covered in tears as he raged.

Denial.

"No! No, no, no no no no no no no no no no no no no," he screamed in bitterness, clutching his head and pulling at his hair. He had been so close. He had almost had the Her in his life. He had almost had the impossible. Forever.

As the truth began to sink in, his scream became broken sobs. Blood from his knuckles blended with his tears; an offering of pain upon the altar of his Goddess, his love. He sputtered and shook as he curled up at her feet.

His face wore the mask of pure agony. His hair, in mere moments, had begun to grey. He threw up and lay there, to defeated to care.

Covered in his own blood, tears and filth, he clutched at her cold stone feet. Shuddering, he whimpered his mantra. His prayer.

"You are my Goddess. Sono il tuo schiavo."

And his prayer had been answered.

Thursday, November 10, 2011

what to do

I can't stop shaking
from the dream that I had
woke up without you
and I'm feeling so bad

oh no
I don't know what to do
my heart is broken
from the memory of you

Thinking of walking
and holding your hand
dipping and turning
while we dance to a band

oh no
I don't know what to do
my heart is broken
from the memory of you

a broken smile it crosses my face
do you think about me at night alone in your place
and you don't know what to do
pick up the phone
and call me back to you

Call

I dreamed that I upset you
Awakening I reached for the phone
I pressed the number to call you
not remembering you're gone
the message of the call remains
and it's one I need to tell
you tip-toed around me for so long
it's my turn to walk on egg shell
I know it doesn't matter now
and perhaps my chance is gone
but I have a lot of love to give
and I'll get things right on the next run.

I love you, Always, You're my favorite

She wrote her "I love you" on a small block of ice
It was kept in the freezer as long as I was nice
But when I let her down, when the honeymoon was done
She removed the block of ice and left it out in the sun.

She wrote down her "Always" in the snow, in the cold
I hoped winter would last til we were both old
But the sun it came out on the sad day in spring
And melted the "Always" until there was nothing

She burned "You're my favorite" into my soul
With her by my side for once I felt whole
But now she's forgotten and it's frozen my heart
I'm no longer her favorite, I'm just broken apart.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Heart in a Cage

"Jack," whispered Alex, his voice shuddering. "What have you done?"

Jack looked up from the table with a weak smile on his face. There was pain etched on his face. His cheeks were streaked with tears.

"It hurt, Alex," he said. "It hurt so much. I had to cut it out."

On the table, covered in blood was Jack's still beating heart.

"Will you take if for me, Alex? Just for awhile?"

Alex looked at his old friend and shuddered. His eyes filled with tears and he shook his head.

"I can't, buddy. I'm sorry."

Anguish covered Jack's face as stood abruptly, knocking his chair to the floor. He rushed toward Alex then fell to his knees. Grasping at his legs he pleaded to him.

"But you're strong! I can't do this anymore," he cried out. "Please, Alex. I can't do this anymore."

Alex looked down at his old friend and tears fell from his eyes. He reached down and gently took Jack's chin, making him look up.

"I'm so sorry, Jack," he said. "I've been trying to help you for so long. But I can't do this for you. I can't."

"Please," cried Jack. "Please help me. I know you can handle it."

"No."

The finality in Alex's voice brought a look of surprise to Jack's face. He fell back onto the floor of the kitchen, staring up at him.

"Why," Jack whispered.

Alex wanted to choose his words carefully. Saying the wrong thing would be like a nail in the coffin. He loved Jack dearly, and didn't want that.

"Jack, your heart is broken. It's weak. If I were to take it into me, it would never heal."

He crouched down beside him and looked into his sad, confused eyes.

"The only way it will heal is with time and care. But you have to do it," he continued with a grin. "I've been there my friend. I know how much it hurts. But you can do this."

Jack immediately began sobbing. He shook his head violently. "No I can't," he screamed. "I'm not as strong as you. I'm not!"

Alex suddenly reached for him, gripping his jaw. It was a firm grip, demanding his attention. There was a fire burning in his eyes that Jack had never before seen on the usually calm face.

"Yes you can," Alex growled. "I wasn't always this strong, and as much as I love you man, I'm not going to risk falling down again."

"You...fell?"

"Yes," said Alex, releasing Jack's face. "A long time ago. But I worked through it. And as impossible as it sounds right now, you will too."

"How?"

Alex's smile was broad. "I'll help you of course! I just can't take it for you."

A little smile was beginning to crack on Jack's pain ridden face. He knew his old friend would have a solution.

"It'll be difficult. But believe me, sport, it'll be worth it."

Alex stood. He reached down for Jack and helped him to his feet, then back to his chair.

Once he was seated, Jack looked up at Alex and asked, "Where do I begin?"

"Well, if it hurts too much to have it in you, then the first thing you need is a cage." He looked around the apartment for a moment, then spotted the old birdcage Jack had kept his parakeet in years ago. "This one will do."

"Now, you place your heart in the cage and lock it up. This will keep it protected. And don't let anyone but you see it for awhile."

Jack was nodding as he made mental notes.

"Your heart is like a bird. Sometimes, it will be scared or sad and just plain old freak out on you. At other times, it will sing," said Alex. "When it's singing, sing with it. And when it's freaking out, reassure it.

"And everyday, every single day, you need to feed it. Start with a little bit at a time, just to give it its strength back. Within a few days or weeks, it should be strong again."

"What do I feed it," asked Jack.

"Love, of course."

Jack slowly nodded his head in comprehension. After everything he'd been through, he had a feeling it would take at least a few weeks just to get some of its strength back. Could he wait that long?

"And yes," said Alex, reading his face. "It might take some time, but you can do it."

"How will I know that it's got its strength back? When do I let it out again?"

Alex smiled and clapped his friend on the shoulder. "That's the best part. You won't know. It will."

"It will?"

"Yes. And when it's time, you won't need to let it out. It'll burst out of the cage, singing, on its own!"

Jack smiled at the way Alex mimicked an explosion of sorts with his arms. The pain that his heart had been giving him was nearly too much to bear. Now he was seeing that his heart just needed strength and proper care.

"When do I start?"

"Right now," said Alex. "Get off your duff, put that thing away. And remember, sing when it sings. And when it's freaking out, calm it down. It won't help if you freak out too."

Jack turned away from him as he carried the heart and the cage over to the counter. He smiled as he placed the little heart inside and locked it up. He hummed quietly to it.

"Alex, I really want to thank you for this," said Jack, turning back toward his friend. "I was at my whit's end and..."

Alex was gone. He did that a lot. Jack just smiled, shook his head. He turned back to the heart.

Quiet as a whisper, it began to sing.

1000 photographs

i have 1000 photographs of smiling faces
yours and mine
we love one another
it wasn't just friendship at the time

i am still your friend you know
and you are still mine
but deep down we are lovers too
i hope you realize in time

sick

a hand reaches into my guts and clenches into a fist
and i am sick
sick of this pain
sick of this loss
sick of this love
sick
of your denial.

i wear my heart on my sleeve you say
but you refuse to see
that my heart is only for you

and it is your hand that reaches into my guts and clenches into a fist
and i am sick
sick from your denial
sick from this love
sick from this loss
sick from this pain
sick
am i?

you keep your heart in a locked box
and refuse to open it and see
that your heart still beats for me

unclench your fist and take your hand from my guts
i don't want to be sick
i just want you.
stop this pain.
end this loss.
embrace this love.
deny your denial.

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Lone Wolf

I stand under the full moon
sniffing at the cold night air
My louve, my one love
she is somewhere out there

She has gone out hunting
in search of new game
leaving me howling
lonesome, in pain

I let out my love sick
moan to the moon
in the hopes that she'll hear me
and come back to me soon

My louve, my dear darling
We take our mates for life
And I pray to the moon
return my louve, my wife

Monday, November 7, 2011

My Miss

Hello my dear miss
you
the way your hair smelled and
the soft touch of
your hand
holding mine
and the smile on your lips
like a
happy birthday
everyday

I'm sorry I can't be
there
beside you in the future
but mine is done
all done

I have no hope
my hope
was
you.

No more surprises or
excited smiles
No more day trips
in the
wilds

Your blue eyes are oceans deep
but I looked into them
and you lied
to me

Grow old together
love forever
I feel old now
and forever
is just a
dream

Goodbye my miss
you
love, me

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

President vs Super Villian - Excerpt from Sleepless in Sin City: Depressed, Deprived, But Still Alive An Experiment in Sleeplessness and Creative Writing

It all started with a phone call.

“Hello?”

The sinister,high pitched voice on the other end sent a chill down Rick Allen’s spine. “Hello, Mr Allen. My name is...the Phlatulator! Ha ha ha ha ha!”

After the initial chill, Rick burst out laughing. “What? Is this Danny? Did Gail in Personal Banking put you up to this?”

“How dare you sir! I am the Phlatulator, and you will do as I demand!”

“Really? And what exactly are your demands, oh great Phlatulator?” The condescension in his voice was tar thick.

Rick looked at his watch. He had about 30 minutes before his meeting and figured there was no harm in talking to this joker. The prank was fantastic, and when he found out who set it up, he would make sure to get them something special for Christmas.

“I don’t appreciate your tone, Mr Allen.” The voice held real menace. Rick was starting to wonder. Either this guy was a great voice actor, or he had something seriously wrong with him

“You will transfer ten million dollars to my offshore account, or face your doom.”

Rick chuckled. It was funny at first, but the joke was already getting kind of old. Besides, he was starting to feel a bit hungry now and if he hurried he could grab some soup at the corner deli before his meeting started.

“Listen, I don’t know who put you up to this, but I appreciate the joke. Now if you don’t mind, I have to attend a meeting in about 25 minutes, so...”

The rage filled voice cut him off. “A MEETING! How dare you! You have a decision to make, Mr Allen. Because if you don’t transfer the money in the next 10 minutes, I’ll be calling on your lovely wife Sissy.”

Now this was odd. Unless whoever filled him in on some pretty personal details, no cut rate hack should have any idea of who his wife was. They were unlisted and on the do not call list.

“Listen guy. Enough is enough.” Rick became all business. “If you want to keep up this charade, feel free. But whoever told you that threatening my wife, even if it’s just for a joke, was a good idea, they were wrong. So fuck off.”

“Wait!” Rick had just pulled the phone away from his ear, but replaced it at the man’s sudden tone of desperation.

“What!”

“Mr Allen, I see that you’ve made your decision.” The voice sounded very understanding. “And you’re right. I should not have threatened your wife.

“After all,” the voice boomed. “You made the choice not to do my bidding! And you’ll be the one to pay for it!”

There was a muffled, shuffling sound. It sounded as though the phone had been stuffed into something. He heard some bumping and rubbing. What the hell?

“Die!” The voice sounded far away.

Rick pushed his ear tight against the receiver. “What did you say?”

Then Rick heard a sound. It started low at first, like someone blowing raspberries through relaxed lips. The sound went from low to high to higher. It almost sounded like someone was ripping a...

Then all was silence for Rick. He was laying on the floor, the blood pouring from is ears formed a pool. Rick was stone dead.

Meanwhile, in an underground lair somewhere off the coast of Washington, DC, the Phlatulator paced, simmering. He cursed and muttered at the unfairness of it all. Why did no one ever take him seriously? He had a bonafide super power, but they all just laughed.

He’d never been able to get a bank president to wire the money. What made him think today would be any different? They always just made fun of him.

No matter. He was a decent looking man who had been able to get by preying on local clubgoers and bar patrons. He could still make a living.

His fist slammed down onto the table. “Ouch! Dammit that hurt!”

He massaged his aching hand, deep in thought and angry at the table. He didn’t want to just make a living. He wanted wealth and power! He wanted an army of slaves, always at his beck and call.

As the pain in his hand began to throb itself away, his mind cleared. An idea formed. One that was so diabolical it couldn’t possibly fail.

If he couldn’t get bank presidents to turn over the cash, perhaps he would just have to go after the real President. The President of the United State. Of course!

Once he had him on the phone, he could hold him hostage. They would have no choice but to wire the money. And if they refused, he would show them.

He would make an example of the President. All the nations of the world would see that no one was safe. Even the most powerful man on the planet would do his bidding. Or die!

There was no time to waste planning out all of the detail. His power to kill would be all he needed. He could waft away the spirit of life with ease.

Moments later, at the White House, the President’s secretary, Ms Walls, is taking a call.

“I demand to speak to the President.”

This guy was pushy and rude. They did not pay her enough to put up with this kind of behavior. “First of all, sir, you will talk to me with respect. And second, I don’t even know you. Why should I put you on with the President?”

There was a brief silence. Clearly, the caller hadn’t expected such assertiveness. But this woman had no idea who she was dealing with. “I...am the Phlatulator!”

Ms Walls laughed. “Excuse me? Did you just say ‘the Phlatulator’? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Silence replied, and then sound of rustling. A maniacal voice, seeming muffled shouted insanely.

“I am the Phlatulator!”

Raspberries, low now but getting higher, louder. And then there was nothing. Ms Walls fell to the floor behind her desk. Blood drained from her eyes and ears.

Meanwhile, back at the secret lair...The Phlatulator pulled at the back of his uniform. That had been a good one. And now there was one less person in the way of his target. He uttered an evil laugh as he dug around in his desk for the box of baby wipes.

In Washington, DC, the President was taking a walk through the halls. He felt like he was forgetting something, but couldn’t put his finger on it.

He knew it wasn’t his wife’s birthday, or any of the children. A meeting was coming up, but that wasn’t for at least a few hours. He was truly stumped.

With a snap of his fingers, he turned down the hall and headed to Ms Walls’ office. She was a wealth of information, keeping track of all his meetings. If he’d forgotten something, she would let him know.

With a spring in his step, the President walked down the hall. He came to the door and knocked 5 times. Shave-and-a-hair-cut!

He smiled and waited for her response. No answer came, and he knocked again in case she hadn’t heard him. He tapped his foot and hummed a tune for a moment. Finally, he opened the door.

Ms Walls was not sitting at her desk. It wasn’t a bother, as the President knew that she kept his daily calender in the top drawer of her desk. He headed toward it and just as he was coming around, he spotted her.

“My God! Ms Walls!”

He knelt down next to the you woman. Judging from the puddle of blood near her head, it was already too late. He reached for her phone to call a paramedic.

Just as his hand touched the receiver, the ringer blared. The President nearly jumped. Talk about coincident.

He picked up the phone and did his best to disguise his voice. “Hello?”

“I must speak with the President!” The voice sounded excited, almost in a panic. “It’s of the utmost concern.”

“Actually,” he said, speaking in his normal voice. “This is the President. But right now I have a medical emergency here and I need...”

“Speak not of what you need, vile creature! I am the Phlatulator, and you will do as I command!”

“Listen, friend. I don’t care who you are.” The President had know Ms Woods since he’d first moved here and she’d been secretary to the previous President as well. She had always been so kind and this man was making jokes. “My secretary has been attacked and I don’t have time for...”

“SILENCE!” The voice was that of a madman. “Your secretary is dead because she refused to put you on the phone. It’s your fault that she’s dead, and unless you want to end up like her you’ll do exactly what I tell you.”

“And what is that?” He spotted a guard passing through the hall, caught his attention with a whistle and motioned him over. “I’m not sure what happened her, but go get us an ambulance or a doctor or something. If we can help her at all, well...we at least have to try.”

There was an evil laugh. “There is no helping her. Once I snuff out a life, it never comes back. Now. Listen to me.”

The President wasn’t sure if this guy really had anything to do with Ms Walls death. Regardless of that, he seemed like trouble. They didn’t need anymore trouble at the White House today.

“You will transfer ten million dollars to my offshore accounts. You will do this within the hour or you’ll end up just like your precious Ms Walls.”

Unimpressed by the bravado, the President replied, “And what, exactly, makes you think you can do anything to me?”

The guard came back with some of the medical staff and a few interns.

“Put one of your interns on the phone.”

Wondering what the gimmick would be, he called over Daniel. He passed him the phone. “This guy says he wants to talk to an intern.”

Daniel was reluctant to place the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

He didn’t hear a response. Just the sound of someone making the raspberries sound. He collapsed in moments.

Now the President had two bodies and a lunatic on the phone. “Listen, Phlatulator,” he said firmly. “I don’t know what you just did, but I won’t be bullied. We don’t negotiate with terrorists.”

The Phlatulator began ranting and raving, but the President covered up phone and motioned over a guard. “Get someone to find out everything they can about a man calling himself the Phlatulator. With a PH, I believe.”

The guard nodded and was off.

When he returned his attention to the phone, the ranting and raving continued. Did this guy ever give it up? No matter.

“Phlatulator, you give me one hour to see to my people here. We’ll talk more after I get these folks taken care of.” He didn’t wait for a response.

Meanwhile, back at the secret lair...”Dammit! How dare that man hang up on me. Doesn’t he know who I am? I am the greatest killer known to man. I can kill anytime, anyplace!” He paced and muttered to himself.

He would play the President’s game for now. He would allow him the hour. After that, it was his money or his life!

And yet again, back in Washington, DC - The President looked over the rather sparse file. It seemed that this Phlatulator, though typically small time, could pose a threat. A string of recent kills, all investment bankers, showed similar postmortem signs as Ms Walls and Daniel.

Whatever he did, he did it while you were on the phone. This bit of information gave the President and idea. He caught one of the guard’s attention. “Head one office over and bring me the phone. There should also be a splitter in there for where it attaches to the fax machine. We’ll need that, too.”

The guard was quick about returning with the phone and the line splitter. The President thanked him, then set about hooking everything up. He placed both telephones next to each other.

It was so simple. Now, he just had to wait for the call. It came faster than expected.

When he went to answer, he picked up the receiver of one phone and pressed speaker mode on the other. He hoped there wasn’t too much feedback.

“Well, fool. What have you decided?”

“Phlatulator, I told you before. I don’t negotiate with terrorists. Especially terrorist with no real teeth.”

“You dare,” screamed. “I’ll destroy you for this!”

The President chuckled. “And how exactly do you think you can do that? I’m the President of the United States, and I’m in my home turf.”

“I’ll show you how I can do that,” said The Phlatulator, his voice dripping menace. “Listen. Listen very carefully.”

The President motioned for everyone to step away from the phones and cover their ears. After make one final adjustment, making sure the phones were perfectly aligned, he stepped away as well.

There was the sound of shuffling and the muffled movement. A voice from far away screamed, “Die!”

There was the sound of raspberries. The sound started low and began to get louder. The President pressed his hands as hard as he could to his ears. He had a theory that at this range they should all be just fine, but he didn’t want to take any chances.

Their was a brief shout of pain or surprise, followed by what sounded like the phone falling to the ground. Then there was silence.

The President had done it.

Later, in an underground lair off the coast of Washington, DC -  He accompanied a small group of Secret Service Agents on the investigation. When they arrived, they found the Phlatulator. Rather, they found what was left of him.

The villain was on the floor, slumped up again a desk. His eyes were bloodshot and a thick string of drool ran down his chin. He rocked himself, but the movement nearly imperceptible.

“This was some crazy super villain?”

“Well, I wouldn’t call him super,” said the President. “Especially when you come to truly understand his power.”

“He farted in the phone, right?”

“Well, yes. The thing is, that was the only way for his power to be effective. Had he broken wind with us standing next to him, we might have had to deal with a nasty smell, but it wouldn’t have hurt us at all.

The Service Agent nodded in understanding.

“Something about the frequency modulation on most telephones boosted the power of his blast,” said the President. “And given that nearly everyone has a cell phone, he could have made himself very dangerous indeed.”

“However, when I realized the way that it worked it gave me the idea to hook up the two phones. Because the blast went through two phones it was slightly diluted. It’s the only reason he isn’t dead.”

“Hmm,” said the Service Agent. “Sounds like he got what was coming to him. Man, Mr President. This is a really shitty secret base. One of the worst we must have seen.”

The President looked around. It was very damp, with puddles of water in some areas. Most of the walls were cracked. Mold was growing in many of those cracks.

He absorbed the details of it all, sighed and nodded his head. “Yes. A shitty base for a shitty villain with a shitty super power. It looks about right to me.”

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

11/01/2011 - Excerpt from "Sleepless in Sin City: Depressed, Deprived, But Still Alive - An Experiment In Sleeplessness and Creative Writing"

I am alive I am
alive
Though my mind has gone
away
I’m coming back I’m coming
back
But likely not to
stay

My site is clear my site is
clear
And yet my eyes are
closed
I see you dear I see you
dear
Your love was just a
pose.

I am alive I am
ALIVE
My heart continues
on
And I’ll be strong YES I’ll be
STRONG
Once all the pain has
gone.

Sunday, October 30, 2011

I. Conversations and Questions

As Jack headed toward the door, he glanced up at the yellow, faded sign and took in the gaudy light blue paint. The Cali Cafe had been one of his haunts since high school. He had a lot of fond memories of the place.

He had met his first high school girlfriend here, and he had finally lost her here as well. He had counseled friends and sought advice at the Cafe. But mostly, he had spent a lot of good times here; laughing, joking, and having fun with his buddies.

After having spent plenty of time there over the last 14 years, it almost felt like a second home to him. He took comfort in the slow service and the delicious food, and in its jumble of pop culture decoration, starving artist paintings, photographs, and varying degrees of crafts.

Mostly though, he loved the fact that it was a great place to sit for a time while enjoying a good cup of coffee and even better conversation. And while the cafe was many things to him, it was his favorite place to get therapy from his friend Alex.

He couldn't remember when he met Alex. At times, it seemed as though he'd known him his whole life. He'd been there during good and bad times, and was the epitome of what Jack thought a good friend should be.

He was patient, thoughtful, and kind. Alex didn't talk over him. Rather, he listened intently to what Jack had to say. He didn't give advice so much as ask the kind of questions that would lead Jack to his own answers.

Given his current crisis, Jack needed his help more than ever. He needed his reasoning mind and hoped Alex would be able to ask the questions that would make everything fall into place.

With a small smile to himself, Jack opened the door and walked in. The Cafe was a "seat yourself" kind of place, and as usual, there was no one to greet him as he stepped inside. He stole a quick glance around and spotted Alex sitting in the corner by the windows. It was where they'd always sat, if it was available, since high school.

It was a  Saturday afternoon and it looked like business was a bit slow. Four tables were taken on their side of the cafe. Because of the large display racks at the entrance, he couldn't tell if anyone was sitting on the other side.

Jack wasn't sure why it even should matter, decided that it didn't, then began to make his way toward Alex. Some of the people sitting at the tables glanced toward him. He smiled and gave them a polite nod. A few smiled at him as they continued their own conversations.

Alex was looking out the window, sipping his cup of coffee when Jack pulled out a chair. He looked over at him with a smile on his face. Alex always seemed to either be smiling or had the hint of one on his lips.

"Hey, bud," said Alex in his ever friendly tone. He rarely called him Jack unless he was preparing to fire off one of his revelatory questions.

"Hey, Alex," Jack replied as he curled up a leg on the seat and got comfortable. "Thanks for meeting me on such short notice."

"Not a problem, dude. Always happy to be there for an old friend," he said as he reached out a hand.

Jack clasped the hand and shook it.

"I hear tell that you're having problems of the female variety."

Jack chuckled a bit. "Do I ever have any other kind?"

Alex looked out the window, appearing to be very deep in thought. "Hmm. Well," he finally said. "I think that there might have been one time..."

He emphasized the word "one", then trailed off with a big grin on his face.

"Ha ha," said Jack, clearly not amused.

"I'm just messing with you, bud," said Alex. "It doesn't matter what the problem is. I'm just glad I can be here for you."

He smiled as he took a sip of his coffee. His eyes glanced to the right as the waitress approached the table.

"Me,too," said Jack.

As the waitress stepped to the table, Alex placed his hand over his cup and let his gaze venture back out the window. Jack looked at him for a moment, smiled, then turned his attention to the girl.

"Hello," she said with a big smile on her face. "What can I get for you today?"

"I think I'll get a  Mega Cup," said Jack. It was his usual drink. Three shots of espresso, hot chocolate, and topped in whipped cream. It probably wasn't the most heart healthy drink, but damn was it good.

"A Mega Cup," she repeated. "Anything else?"

"I think that'll do for now."

She smiled and gave him a nod. "I'll be right back with it."

Jack turned his attention back to Alex as the waitress walked back to the counter. He saw that his eyes were following the girl, silently taking in her every move. Alex always seemed to soak in his surroundings, be it the people or simply the decor. His attention to the details was one of the things that seemed to make him such a good listener.

"So," said Alex, bringing Jack out of his contemplations. "What can you tell me?"

Jack heaved a sigh, preparing himself mentally for what he knew would be a difficult conversation. He wasn't entirely sure of where to begin.

"Dude, just take it from the top," Alex said, seeming to sense his inner struggle. Damn, but he was good at that.

Jack collected his thoughts for a moment longer while Alex sipped his coffee and smiled patiently. When he set down his cup, he placed his right arm on the table and leaned in.

He was in listening mode now. His eyes bore into Jack, who knew that that was his cue to get on with it.

"Well," Jack began with a sigh. "You know about the break up."

Alex gave a small nod. "I heard."

"The thing is, I love Anne. I don't want to give up on her yet. But I did something that really pissed her off now and I'm afraid that my chance is completely ruined."

"I see," said Alex. His face was utterly calm, a complete opposite of the look etched on Jack's visage. "Why don't you tell me exactly what happened, and don't leave out any details."

Jack slowly nodded and began to tell his story. After a few minutes the waitress came by with his drink. She smiled at him as he briefly paused his story to thank her. She seemed to be looking at him with some concern.

"Are you alright?" Her tone was friendly.

"Yeah, I'm good," Jack smiled. "Thanks."

She returned the smile. "You're welcome," she said as she turned to walk away.

Jack sipped his Mega Cup. It was perfection and warmed him inside. He smiled for a moment, in thought. As he began to remember where he was at in his story, the smile faded.

He continued giving the details of everything that had happened over the last six months or so. Alex listened attentively. Not once did he speak, except to ask for clarification or more details when he knew Jack was holding back.

It was something Alex had always been good at. He could sense when there was more to a story than Jack was giving him. Knowing he had such a good friend made it a lot easier for Jack to dish out the details.

He told Alex everything, from the first night when they'd discussed breaking up, and how it felt wrong from the moment he'd stepped out the door, all the way up to the present situation. He told him about his emotional ups and downs. Jack told Alex everything, knowing that his old friend would digest it all with sound reasoning.

Sound reasoning was exactly what Jack needed. He was driven by his emotions, and he knew it. Alex had once told him that while it was important to listen to his heart, it was even more important that his heart listen to his head. He hadn't come close to mastering this lesson, but with Alex to listen to him, Jack wasn't concerned about it.

"Would you like a refill?"

The sudden question startled Jack and he quickly turned his attention to the blonde haired waitress. He then noticed Alex had his hand over his cup and a big smile on his face. He also noticed that his Mega Cup was empty.

"Wow," he said with a self deprecating chuckle. "I guess I got a bit carried away."

He looked at the waitress who continued to smile brightly. "I think I'll have another Mega Cup," he said.

"Sure thing." She started to turn away, paused and looked back at him. "Are you sure you're alright? I mean, two Mega Cups is a lot of caffeine."

Jack nodded, and with a smile tinged by what Jack could only interpret as concern, she headed back to the counter to make his drink.

Jack gave Alex a questioning look.

"Yes," said Alex. "It's that obvious."

They both laughed at the truth of those words. One thing Jack had never been good at was hiding his emotions. It was a side effect of the way they seemed to control him.

"Yeah, well," Jack chuckled in acknowledgement, as though it was the way things were and couldn't be changed. The shrug of his shoulders said it all.

They shared a brief silence. Alex smiled and looked back out the window. Jack glanced around the cafe. A few of the people made eye contact. He smiled and raised his eyebrows, which garnered him a few smiles in return. Then the others quickly turned back to their conversations, only occasionally glancing in his direction.

He knew that he could get carried away when talking to Alex. He hoped that he wasn't getting too loud. It happened now and then, but it was still kind of embarrassing.

"So," said Alex, hunkering down to listen once again. "Back to your story."

"Of course," Jack said with a small chuckle. "Where was I?"

Alex laughed. "Leave it to you, bud. You were explaining the current situation and why you believe she's so angry with you."

"Ah. Well..."

Jack continued with his tale of woe, explaining what he thought Anne must be thinking and why. He told him how hurt the tone of he last letter was. But mostly, he wondered what he might be able to do or say to get her to understand his reasons for doing as he had done.

The waitress brought him his drink, her ever present smile a contrast the the angst that was etching into Jack's heart. He gave her a not, a brief smile, and thanked her.

"No problem," she said. "Just happy to put a smile on your face."

Jack beamed. "It's very much appreciated."

As she headed off to check on the other customers, Jack turned back to Alex. He seemed to be mulling over the details of Jack's story.

When he had a certain look on his face, Jack knew it was no time to talk. Alex seemed as though he were staring off at something far away that only he could see. It was as if time simply stopped for him.

Or perhaps, thought Jack, he stops. Perhaps when Alex was like this nothing mattered to him other than the topic at hand. He seemed to shut everything out and was alone with his thoughts. That he could do this anywhere, no matter how loud or crowded, still amazed Jack.

After what seemed like a small eternity, Alex came back from wherever it was he'd gone off to. He looked at Jack with a face blank of expression.

"Jack," he said. "It's been nearly six months. What exactly do you want?"

For the first time since he'd known him, Jack was a bit disappointed by one of his questions. Especially since it pertained to something that was so important to him. He wasn't sure what to say.

"Wha..." he stammered. "What do you mean? I told you what I want."

Now Alex was all business. His face took on the likeness of an attorney, firing off details at a witness that he knew was holding back.

"You told me she was angry and that you don't want her to be. You told me she was hurt by what you'd done and that if you could make her understand she might not be."

Jack just stared at him. He wanted to say something, but what?

"You told me that you miss her, and that you love her and that you don't want to give up," Alex continued. "You even told me that, even though it hurts, you don't want to stop loving her because you know that she loves you. You think that she is afraid or worried about what the future might bring, and that you don't want her to worry. You don't want her to be afraid."

"Exactly," Jack finally managed.

Alex's eyes bore into his. There was no malice there, thought the tone of his speech seemed a bit harsh. He seemed to be looking into Jack; into the depths of his heart.

Jack wanted to look away. His eyes seemed to be glued on Alex, who just sat there. For a moment, it reminded him of those times he would wake from a nightmare. He would go into the bathroom and stare into the mirror, as if to reassure himself that it had all just been a bad dream.

With his calm, unchanging facial expression, Alex finally spoke.

"Jack." His voice was soft, consoling. "Jack, you've told me much of what is, and of what you don't want."

He let the thought linger for a moment before continuing.

"But you've left out something that is infinitely more important."

"What do you mean," asked Jack. "I've told you everything I can think of."

Alex responded with a smile, but he looked somewhat sad. He gazed compassionately into his friend's eyes.

"Jack," he said softly. "What do you want? And more importantly, why?"

The gentle smile didn't leave his lips, but his eyes glanced to the right and he slowly brought his hand up over the top of his coffee mug. He shifted his gaze back out the window as the waitress approached.

"Finished another one? Would you like some water?"

For a moment, Jack just stared at Alex, unsure of how to respond to his question. It wasn't something he'd really thought about before. At least, when he had, it had never been something he had to think hard about.

"Um. Are you okay," the waitress asked. "Do you want me to come back in a bit?"

Jack finally looked up at her ash though he'd come out of a trance. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'll take another Mega Cup."

The waitress looked at him with surprise on her face. "Wow," she said. "I've never seen someone drink three in a row before. You're gonna have to go running or something."

"Why," asked Jack, completely oblivious to the joke.

She shook her head. "Never mind. I'll go grab one for you. Just don't go having a heart attack on me from all that caffeine."

Jack had already looked away from her. He was staring down at the table, wondering how to answer Alex's question.

"I'll be alright," he finally droned. "I'm always alright."

The softness of his voice, the way his shoulders slumped, and the way his gaze had settled on the decorated tabletop told the waitress otherwise.

"I'll just be a moment," she said softly while giving him a gentle touch on the arm.

Jack gave a small nod but continued to stare at the tabletop. Eventually, he looked up and thought to say something to Alex. Once again, his friend was gazing out the window, that far away look in his eyes.

What was he looking at? Where did his mind wander off to and why did it bring such a smile to his face. how was it that he always seemed so at peace with himself and the world at large?

And now, a new thought came to his mind. Why had his stomach suddenly become so uncomfortable? What was causing this shaking in his legs and this overall discomfort.

"Jack?"

He brought his eyes up to give Alex his attention. Now he would get the advice that he needed. Alex would say something profound and everything would be cleared up.

"Jack, I don't expect you to answer me right now."

What? This wasn't what he expected at all. The look on his face showed it.

"Don't give me that look," said Alex with a smile. "You need to give this some real thought.

"I know that I've been someone you turn to for advice for a long time. This time, it's up to you. I can't tell you what you want."

"But how am I supposed to figure it out?" The desperation in Jack's voice was evident. Alex sat silently for a moment, choosing his words.

"My suggestion is that you go for a hike. Bring a notebook along with you. Find a quiet spot, sit down and think about my question. Then don't come back until you find the answers.

"I can't be there to help because I don't want to have any sway over your answers.

"Now, go to the bathroom already!"

"What?"

Alex laughed. "You've had what? 3 or 4 Mega Cups now? You keep shifting around and your legs are shaking. Kind of obvious, isn't it?"

"Oh. Right," said Jack, realization dawning on him. "Be right back."

The waitress came by with his drink, just as he was getting up.

"It finally caught up with you, huh," she said with a giggle. She placed the cup on the table, her eyes still on him. The smile never left her face.

Jack grinned, embarrassed and looked sheepishly away. "Yeah. I guess so."

His face was red, and with the smile still on his face he headed off to take care of business.

*****

When he came back, Alex's seat and place at their table was empty. It'd been awhile since he'd done this, but Jack knew he must have had a good reason for it. He was always coming and going when someone needed him.

He sat and sipped his drink, contemplating. Alex was right. He had a lot to think about. Going on a hike seemed like as good an idea as any. Getting away from all of the noise and distraction would do him good.

Jack looked up as the waitress approached. She smiled her usual smile and said, "Please tell me you're not getting another one. I don't want to have to call an ambulance."

"Not at all," laughed Jack. "I'll just take the check please."

"Sure thing."

"Oh," Jack said, catching her as she began to walk away. "Did my friend pay his before he left? I was planning on picking it up for him."

The waitress slowly turned back toward him, a sly look on her face. She rested a hand on her hip and tapped her foot, mimicking an impatient school teacher. A slight smile crossed her lips as she eyed him.

"Hey," she said. "Are you trying to mess with me?"

"What do you mean." Jack was smiling, but confused.

"You've been sitting at that table for over 2 hours," she said. "By yourself."

Jack's smile melted.

"Don't you mess with me, mister," the waitress continued, a hint of baby talk encroaching on her voice. She gave him a playful, flirtatious poke with her finger and flashed a great big smile. Then she turned and walked back to the counter to get him his bill.

Jack couldn't bring himself to smile back.

Friday, October 28, 2011

One Last Picture

She lays peacefully in her hospital bed, eyes closed. Her hair, a little thinner, a little whiter than I remember it, frames her quiet face. And the look on that face, one of serenity mixed with pain, helps me remember.

"Everything's better with butter," she used to say. And I have found this to be true in just about every case. Because of her, I refuse to smear my palette with that vile substance known as margarine (though I did dabble in it for awhile). Because of this simple statement, I know that if I bake a cake, or make cookies, or fry chicken it will be heavenly.

Is it the healthiest thing on earth for you? No, not at all. But if you look at more than just fat or cholesterol content and take the time to read the actual ingredients, you'll see that with margarine, you may as well be ingesting embalming fluid.

Plus, it doesn't even compare when it comes to taste.

When she cooked with butter, she didn't go crazy. It was like she had a sense, perhaps developed over the many years of raising a family, of exactly how much to put into something. It was never too heavy or light. It was just right. Every time.

I also remember the holidays, and looking forward to a real treat. Homemade Chex mix (hey look, butter).

Chex, the very people who advertise this recipe, the people who manufacture and SELL Chex Mix, can not even begin to compare to the delicacy that came from her kitchen. They had to resort to varying flavors and gimmicks. But even their own "Bold" flavor pales in comparison.

Peanuts, almonds, pretzel sticks, and of course the various types of Chex went into her recipe. I know I'm leaving some things out, but no matter. The content wasn't what made it so superb, so mouth watering.

I question whether or not she followed the exact recipe. What I am certain of, however, is that she either baked it longer or at a slightly higher temperature than the folks at Chex suggest. And again, her sense of butter content had to have made a difference.

Her Chex mix was browned to perfection. No doubt it came from years of making it, but this browning of the various ingredients simply infused them with flavor. It was like a shotgun blast: seasoned salt, Worcestershire sauce, garlic and onion powders united in a wave of pure decadence that threatened to blow your face through the back of your head.

Even as I am writing this, the simple thought of it is making me salivate like Pavlov's pup. I have not had this particular treat in, I'd say, well over 10 years. At least. But the euphoric flavor still lingers, still maintains it's grip on my taste buds.

I remember eating this same Chex mix as we traversed the zoo at Christmas time. Walking in the chill air, the beauty of the lights and decorations amplified by the snow on the ground. Many of the animals didn't come out, but I don't think that was the point. The point was simply to spend time with people that you loved.

I remember, vaguely, being surrounding outside by the people loved ones and seeing "Seven Brides for Seven Brothers" for the first time. It was cold out and I remember there was a dusting of snow. But we braved it and watched this movie, along with the puffs our breathe made, while drinking hot chocolate.

I remember smiling, that great big smile that so rarely comes to my face anymore. The one that makes my eyes tear up because no matter how big the smile there is still joy aching to burst out.

That smile is elusive, but it's still there. Remembering, even if only in fragmented stills and clips, that day is the reason why I love that movie. It's the reason why, even if I feel like everything is falling to pieces and I can't do anything right, I can watch it and feel a sense of warmth, love, and hope.

I feel these things because the first time I saw this movie it is what I was surrounded by. And no matter how hard life seems, I can think of the lyrics "We ain't met yet but I'm a-willing to bet, you're the gal for me", apply it to the world in general, and have a smile come to my face.

That "gal" could be a new job, or a destination, or a goal, or yes, even an actual girl. When I think of the purity of the joy I felt that day, I don't worry as much about things. After all, we just "ain't met yet", whoever or whatever that meeting will be with.

I've never explained that before. Ever. So while some people consider musicals to be for sissies, or think they're stupid, and can't stand 7B47B, it means so much more to me than I can put into words. That's why you'll still hear me humming the tune from that first song. Because this movie is actually about those feelings for me.

And I remember being loved.

I remember being tucked into a springy, bouncy twin bed. There was one pillow, a sheet, and a yellow blanket.

I remember being cozy and warm and being read to at night. It was usually a short tale from one of the Childcraft books. Often some kind of fairy tale or fable or an adventure of sorts would whisk me off to dreamland. But I never fell asleep until it was over.

She wasn't usually the one who read them. But the one who did made me feel loved, too.

And I feel like I let them down. Not in the sense that my life isn't right or that I'm not living it, but rather because I didn't take enough time to tell them both how I felt.

He died, the one who read to me, a few years ago. I never got another chance to tell him. He is my Grandad, and I love him.

And I had the opportunity to tell her then, but I didn't. And then she moved farther away.

Each year I said the same thing. "I'll get down there when I can." Or: "I'll try to make it there for (insert holiday here)." And even: "I'll definitely get down there this year."

But I didn't.

I always found an excuse not to go. I had too much going on. I couldn't afford the trip.

She looks peaceful, laying in the hospital bed. And I remember why I should have gone. I remember why I should have gone years ago, why I should have made the time and saved the money.

Because she is laying in a hospital bed, her face serene with just a touch pain. She is laying in a hospital bed, holding still for one last picture.

She is my Granny, and I didn't tell her. She is my Granny, and I love her.

Thursday, October 27, 2011

I'll Wait. For You.

He looked at the photograph in his trembling hands. Two shadows on a sandy beach, the warm sun giving them life. It reminded him of another place, another time. The seaside, it’s delicate nature, a metaphor for love.

And loss.

The sand between your toes could be warm, comforting. Feeling its massage against the skin of your feet was the soft caress of a lover. And the cool, gentle waves lapping against the shore sent a shiver, like a tender kiss, shuddering through your body.

On the cool days, the sand could be hard. Its feel was a cold shoulder from a scorned lover. The icy water, sharp as dagger against the skin, hurt. The pain gave you goose bumps and came so quickly that you thought your heart would stop.

Love could be like that. One day, it was sunshine and warmth. The next, it was cloudy and cold.

And then the day came when his heart stopped. The day he got the call that she was gone. He had held out hope. Prayed. But it wasn’t meant to be.

The news hadn’t just stopped his heart. It froze it over, winter’s touch as cold her body now must be. She had been a fighter, but even the strongest fighters can lose.

And when the news came, like a hammer blow from an unseen assailant, his icy heart shattered.

He looked at the photograph in his trembling hand. Two shadows on a sandy beach, the warm sun mocking him with the life it had given them.

In his other hand, a modeling knife. A white knuckled grip shook violently, as though the strain of it could hold back his tears.

But much like a handful of sand gripped tightly will spill through your fingers, the tears began to sneak out. Their descent down his stubbled cheeks made no sound. Neither did he.

He raised the knife toward his wrist, toward the arm that held the hand that held the picture that held his heart.

When it touched his skin the metal's icy touch stopped him. It made him think of all the warm and cool days. He didn’t regret any of them, except for the last one. The final day.

It had been raining and was very cold.. He knew there had been tears in her eyes then, when she said her last “I love you”. Shortly thereafter, she was gone.

And he hadn’t been there.

He wondered about where she was now. If she was warm, happy. Was she smiling that special smile of hers? The one that melted his heart.

Like the one in the picture he held. The one that only he could see, when he closed his eyes.

Would she greet him there? Would she embrace him? She wanted him to move on. She wanted him to live his life and be happy. Would she want this?

No.

He looked at the photograph in his trembling hand. He looked at the knife, shaking there near his wrist, daring him. And slowly moved it away.

She had asked so little of him, how could he not do this? He would continue his life, though alone. He would find happiness in family and friends. He would imagine her warm smile with every success and her loving embrace with every setback. He would imagine her touch when he lay awake at night and her voice telling him that he could do anything.

“I’ll wait,” he whispered to the empty room. To the photograph. To her. “For you.”

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

7

There were 7 wonders of the ancient world, but none compared to you.
7 samurai saved a village, but there was nothing that they could do.
A human heart weighs 7 pounds, but mine has disappeared.
7 stars in the big dipper, too, but I don’t care to see them here.

7 Endless in the Sandman’s world, though even they will someday end.
7 notes in the West’s Major Scale, but music is not my friend.
7th Heaven is where my heart once resided, until you went away
It took 7 to create this world, for me it ended in one day.

7 is God’s number and there are 7 deadly sins
I see 7s to hit the jackpot, but I just can’t seem to win.
My hopes, my dreams, my joys, my loves all seem to disappear
And I just wasn’t strong enough to make it last for 7 years.

Saturday, October 22, 2011

Fish Bowls

I went to Towne Square to buy some Oolong Tea from a shop
called Teavana. It's an excellent shop, with a great selection and
knowledgeable employees. Not only did I get a tasty beverage, but I got
enough oolong to last me a few weeks.

The benefits of oolong tea are interesting. According to Chinese folks, it
makes you thin. The people at Teavana tell me that it helps you process
carbs. This isn't true.

In actuality, oolong tea inhibits your body from absorbing fat and
cholesterol. It also produces an interesting side effect. Your body, when
burning energy, will go after your fat stores rather than a more readily
available source - your muscle.

I'll admit, the employees explanation is more marketable. It's a lot easier
to say that something helps you process carbs than all the information I
just gave. So I can't fault them.

But I digress. After receiving my tea, in both drinkable and brewable form,
I sat down with a book and relaxed a bit.

I enjoyed the travel writings of Paul Theroux. I sat tensed, ready to spring as a
small child (maybe 1 or so) nearly walked into the street as her preoccupied
mother chatted with a friend. I breathed a sigh of relief when the mother
grabbed her, the car heading toward her hit its brakes, and a very bad thing
was averted.

Would I have been quick enough if the mother had not been? I don;t know. I'm
not as fast or limber as I used to be. I'm just happy it didn't have to be
tested.

Again, I digress and turn my attention to people watching.

Las Vegas, when you get right down to it, is little more than a barren
desert. We get our water from somewhere else, and the trees we enjoy in Sin
City are usually of the palm variety, which means it's actually a type of
grass (look it up if you don't believe me).

But real grass in this dust bowl is at a premium and many places substitute
AstroTurf. Neighborhoods have this cheap, green fabric, and so does Towne
Square. And the local couples flock to it; it's one of the things I find
interesting in this otherwise cesspool of a town.

Las Vegas, to me and many others, is a place to go to create some sort of a
memory. And while our marketing geniuses will tell you that what happens
here stays here, it  makes me wonder about the people who call the town home. What kind of place is this to live if you're young (or old, for that matter) and in love?

What is there to do? Where is there to go? What kind of memories can you
make?

You can go to Mt Charleston for real green, but the average tourist won't be
doing that. You can visit Lake Meade for your water fix, but even that is
man made. So does that mean that all of our potential memories are false?

No. And I debated this with myself for awhile, but the only answer I can
give is no. The memories you'll take back from Vegas, while built on fake
grass or quick drying concrete, are not fake. We are a town of masks; nothing truly fake, but you never really see what's real.

Towne Square has the quaint, pretty little setting. There are light strung up and a small gazebo. Plenty of tables and benches are there for you to relax on. Or you can just lay on the "grass" near the water.

The water is designed to be a like a small brook, complete with a sort of little island. There is a little bridge that goes over it and the rocks are all fake (or at least covered by some kind of sprayed on concrete, which lends them the look). In all, watching the happy couples laying in each others arms, it give a true sense of serenity.

And it reminds me of a fish bowl. Fake plants, rocks and cheap decorations make the fish feel safe and at home. This is what Towne Square is like as well. In fact, much of Vegas is like this.

Think about it. Caesar's Palace is designed to look like something out of Roman history. The Luxor harkens back to ancient Egypt. And the Venetian is meant to whisk you off with its romantic vision of Venice (it fails because the water is much cleaner than the real thing).

And while all of these things are false, it doesn't make the memories you can make here any less real. In our little fishbowl, in the middle of the desert, you can enjoy sites and sounds from around the world.

Here, we have the Eiffel Tower, castles and pirate ships. And while none of these can compare to the real thing, it's a lot cheaper and the pictures are just as lovely.

So back to my point. What does this mean for the people who call Las Vegas home? It's simple.

We have the world at our finger tips. And people from all walks of life, from all over come here just to see what we've managed to carve out. It's a paradise in a wasteland. It's a fishbowl in the bedroom of America.

Plus, we got tons of hookers.

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

20111018

Thinking of the grey granite of the mountains; the green and brown of the trees that make me feel at peace. Blue skies and sunshine warm the soul. Thinking of a hand holding and a smile that to wake up to. Thinking of the warmth held close and a thumb touching a small mole on the back of an arm. Getting out of the warm bed to make eggs over easy, and toast with butter, perfect for dipping. Think of long walks down trails, the crunch of gravel under two pairs of feet on a moonlit night in October, breathe coming in little clouds with each spoken word. The smell of fall mixed with shampoo and lily of the valley, the crisp leaves shuddering in the trees. Beautiful children that will never be. And the tears that are falling write a little story on the cheeks with each streak they leave behind; an inky, smudged story that tells of a failed love. A love that could not conquer all. A little essay explaining that no, love is not all you need. Dream about green grass, a house with a big deck. Dream of the lightning and rain pouring down while watching a spring storm. Sipping wine and conversing; the thunder clap and downpour a soundtrack...that will never be. Growing older, getting fat but still looking into those eyes and feeling warmth inside. Feeling complete. An "I'll always love you" spoken beside a deathbed, and knowing that for the first time and last time, it is true.

These thoughts mean everything. And nothing.

Sunday, October 16, 2011

The President's Speech

When the news hit, there was an outpouring of sorrow and heartfelt cries filled the streets. With sullen faces, the news anchors on every channel gave their condolences, some holding back tears, others gasping in sobs. No news story had tugged at the heart of the American people since 9/11.

At first, it had just been a rumor. Someone, an insider, had let the news slip out. Panic gripped the nation and reporters everywhere scrambled to see if there was validity in the claim.

Within 24 hours, the news was confirmed.

People gathered outside the White House, holding a candle light vigil. Citizens flooded the streets of New York City, Los Angeles, and all of the major cities. Small town folks gathered in their churches and prayed.

In some places, violence erupted. Police tried to stem the tied, but soon gave in to the same feelings that had gripped the people. It was a tragedy that made their fortitude collapse.

When the troops overseas heard the news, at first, they didn't believe it. It seemed impossible. They spoke to their Commanding Officers and by the desolate gazes they gave their men, one of their worst fears was confirmed.

Many succumbed to depression. Some simply dropped theirs guns, sat down in the dirt and began to weep. Some of the women cried while hugging their comrades to their sides. Generals cried on the shoulders of their aides with pain heavy in their hearts.

Most of the soldiers, battle hardened troops, felt lost. Order sunk into chaos. While many were depressed by the news, others felt only rage well up.

There was much violence. Blinded by their pain and anger, troops broke down and became savage. They hunted down insurgents, trying to place the blame on someone. Anyone.

And then, later that evening, all the channels began to broadcast a live stream from the White House. The President was about to speak. He would steer the nation in the right direction.

The internet was nearly brought down by the bandwidth being used. Satellites beamed the message through out the world. And all over America, people sat in their living rooms, computer rooms and offices. Some stood in the middle of stores. Some stood on the streets, watching. Waiting.

The President would lend his strength and his resolve to the people. His words were always well planned and well spoken. He would help alleviate the suffering.

And as everyone waited to hear his words, time seemed to stop.

As the cameras came on, his face was streaked with dried tears. His voice was shaky. He held his hands to his chest as though the pain of it was tearing him apart.

And then, he spoke.

"My fellow Americans," he began. "I have some very sad news for all of you, and I think sad news for many people the through out the world. 


"This will be a difficult day, a difficult time for the United States. For today, we are all united in a great sorrow.

"I'd planned to speak to you tonight to report on the state of the Union, but the events of earlier today have led me to change those plans. Today is a day for mourning. The First Lady and I are pained in our hearts by this tragedy.


"We will all have to bear the full burden of this loss. While there is a great sense of hopelessness right now, we as a nation have a choice. We can live our lives in regret off this loss, close our hearts and minds and give in to the suffering.


"Or, we can stand strong. We can move forward. And I believe the choice is clear.


"I know that many of you watching this today are in need of a sense of closure. You want to know that the news is, in fact, true. You want to hear the word from my own lips."


The President paused a moment, as though contemplating what he would say next. Thoughts of the violence and the sorrow coursing through out the nation weighed heavily on his mind. His speech had been well written, but it wasn't enough. Now, the people of America needed to hear what came from his heart.

"I've always had great faith in and respect for the American people. The violence of today does nothing to diminish it. We were all in shock, and to a point, we all lost our minds a little bit. I can't blame you for that, but it must stop now.

"I don't hide the news. I don't keep secrets and cover things up. It was a promise that I made to you a long time ago. I am a President who does things out front and in the open. That's the way of freedom and I wouldn't change it for a moment.

"Nothing ends here; our hopes and our dreams still continue. But they will continue without a long time friend of the American people."


He paused again. Tears came to his eyes and ran down his cheeks. He looked away from the camera briefly, face etched in agony. It lasted only for a moment.


When he looked back, his face showed only resolve.


"We will never forget this old friend. A friend who was there for us in the morning. A friend that offered joy during times of sorrow and gave us strength when we felt weak. 


"We will have to face the future with out our friend. And though it will be difficult, we will survive. We will thrive.


"Our old friend held us up and stood by our side through thick and thin. And now, we will go forward...," his voice cracked. "Alone."


His features were tightened. His eyes, though saddened, showed strength. And he spoke the final words of his speech with resolve in his tone.


"There is...no more bacon."



Saturday, October 15, 2011

Metaphor

"The greater the sensibility the greater the suffering...much suffering." - Leonardo Da Vinci

****************************************************************

Alex looked at the shuddering heap laying in the bed. The moaning, shuddering sobs were the only sound in the room. Well, that and the occasional sniffle.

"I take it things didn't go that well," said Alex.

He had been standing in the doorway of Jack's studio apartment for 10 minutes. He hadn't let up one bit. Nor did he answer.

"Listen, bud," Alex said impatiently. "I know that you're hurting right now. That's pretty damn obvious. But if you don't pull it together and talk to me, I can't help you.

"Plus, if you don't get your ass outta bed and go clean yourself up, I'm totally raiding your fridge."

Alex said this with a smile. He said most things with a smile on his lips.

Somehow, Alex had learned that no matter how hard things were, no matter what the problem, a solution could be found by reasoning things out. He had been spending a lot of time with Jack, trying to help him see this. It was an uphill battle.

"Seriously dude." He made his way toward Jack and gave him a light kick. "Get up or I'm leaving."

He pause for a moment.

"After I eat whatever good stuff you have in the fridge."

Jack began crawling out from under the blankets. He squinted his eyes, and Alex could tell he'd been under them for quite awhile.

"Oh look," said Alex, a big grin on his face. "It's like I'm witnessing a birth, but with out all the blood and screaming."

Jack looked at him, clearly not amused. His face was tear streaked and dirty. He had snot, both fresh and dried on his nose and cheeks. Alex made a disgusted face.

"But apparently not much less messy."

"I shouldn't have talked to her," said Jack. "I reasoned it out, like you said, and I thought I could handle it."

"Yeah...," Alex drawled. "We can discuss this after you clean up. Go look in the mirror. Seriously, you look gross. Take care of that first."

Jack sighed, but pushed himself up and out of bed. Head down, he walked into the bathroom and flipped on the light. He looked up into the mirror.

"Holy shit," said Jack. "I'm sorry, Alex. I didn't want you to see me like this."

"Meh," Alex waived it off. "It's not the first time. Just please wash you face. I'm trying to eat here."

Jack laughed a little at this, then proceeded to clean himself up. When finished, he walked out of the bathroom and looked Alex. He wasn't eating anything; just sipping on a glass of water and waiting.

"So," said Alex. "You talked to her and now you're a mess again, huh?"

The "her" Alex referred to was Jack's ex, Anna. They'd been broken up for quite some time now, and Jack seemed to finally be doing well. Clearly, he was not.

"Yeah, I guess so," replied Jack. "I just thought I could handle it."

"Did you really? Or did you just want to hear the sound of her voice again?"

"Well...", Jack said. "There was that."

"Why?"

Jack thought a moment. "Because I miss her. I think that I was forgetting what her voice sounded like. I didn't like that."

Alex just shook his head and gave him a somber smile. "Wasn't that kind of the idea?"

"I know." Jack cast his eyes downward. "But it wasn't just that," he said, finally looking back up.

Alex studied his friend's eyes for a moment. He had known him for years and was pretty good at reading him.

"She told you she met someone."

Jack gave a small nod. His eyes began to get watery, but he kept it in check. Alex would let him cry about it, but he knew that aside from the slight release it afforded, crying would do him no good.

"Why the hell would she want to talk just so she could tell me that," Jack asked. "It doesn't make any sense."

"Doesn't it," asked Alex.

Jack just looked at him, puzzled.

"Listen," Alex continued. "I can't say for sure what her reasoning was, but it might have simply been that she was feeling insecure and needed you to boost her ego a bit. What exactly did you guys talk about?"

Jack though a moment.

"Well, typical small talk about what we were up to now. Then we talked about the past and where it went wrong."

Alex nodded. "And how did you handle that?"

"Well, I tried to be reasonable like you always tell me to do."

Alex raised an eyebrow. "That's it? That's all you're going to give me?"

He put his arms on his hips and looked Jack in the face. That damn smile was still there. He could always seem to tell when Jack held back.

"I guess the gist of it is that I told her I'm fine and that I don't think about her as much. I told her I'm happy that she met someone."

To a certain, very limited extent it was true.

"Why would you tell her that?"

Jack said nothing for a moment, thinking over the question. Finally, he replied.

"I guess I just figured it would make things easier on her."

"And why would you do that? Why not just tell her exactly how you feel and the reason why you have to focus on yourself so strongly," asked Alex. "Did you tell her what you told me? How you have to focus on yourself so thoroughly because if you don't...well, this happens?"

Jack just shook his head.

"I can't do that to her, Alex."

"Why? She moved on, or is trying to. Why don't you," he asked. "Why does it always matter to you how she feels. Your relationship ended. It's okay if you hurt. It's okay if you move on and she hurts. It's going to happen."

"I guess I would rather just know that she's alright and that she's happy before I finally start to let go."

"That isn't reasonable, Jack," said Alex, throwing his arms up. "That isn't what I've tried to help you with."

"But it is. It's logical, even," replied Jack.

Alex said nothing. He simply crossed his arms and looked at Jack. Clearly, he needed a better explanation.

"It's purely emotional," he finally said. "You're just hurting yourself. I'm thinking you shouldn't have called her, but what's done is done."

Jack nodded. "I agree with you there. But, it isn't purely emotional. Or at least, it isn't my emotions I'm thinking about."

"Obviously. You were doing just fine. Granted, you're not nearly as bad as you were a few months ago, but compared to how you've been for the last month you're a wreck. Why do that to yourself. Let her be the wreck."

"No."

Alex didn't lose his patients with Jack. He just looked at him. That wasn't the answer he wanted to hear.

"Why not? This is obviously eating away at you right now. It could take weeks for you to get back on track, even with my help."

"I know," said Jack, head bowed and giving a hint of a nod.

"Then why?"

Slowly, Jack raised his head. He looked Alex in the eyes. It wasn't quite a look of resolution. More like a look of sad determination.

"Because I love her, Alex. If I can help keep her from feeling even a fraction of what I do right now, to me, it's completely worth it.

"And as much as it makes me ache, as much as it hurts, I know I can deal with it. I'm used to it."

For a time, there was silence. A tear slid down Jack's face. Alex just looked at him.

He finally spoke. "And if Anna finds out about this?"

"Then she'll know that even though I love her, even though I haven't given up on hope, that I want her to be happy. God knows that I'd prefer it be with me, but I used reason, like you told me. I thought it out.

"I live miles away now. She isn't likely to come out here. Her sense of adventure just never was the same as mine. I could pick a direction and drive - preferred it, even. She liked to plan things out, have a destination in mind most of the time."

He paused after this, looking at Alex. Realization was slowly coming to him.

"That's a metaphor isn't it?"

"Yes," said Jack.

Alex slowly inhaled. He mulled it all over in his mind, and in a way, it did kind of seem reasonable. He didn't think it was the best thing for his well-being, but it kind of made sense, given the way that Jack was.

With a sharp exhale he reached up and slapped Jack on the shoulder. He smiled. "Well," he said. "You kind of twisted it a bit, but I'm glad you've at least reasoned this out. In your own way, at least."

Jack smiled. It was a sad smile, but it was something. Alex was just glad that his face wasn't covered is tears and snot. Though given the new situation, in a few hours or a few days, it likely would be again.

"Thanks," said Jack.

"And you're sure you'll be alright?"

Jack raised his arms up with sharp, loud sigh. "What choice do I have now, other than to be alright? It's like I said before...I'm used to it."