A place where I post unscripted, unedited, soulless rants of a insomniac madman
Here is my answer to The Question of the Night #2
Where do you go to escape stress?
I’ve always been told I had a healthy imagination, so it is there I retreat to in times of stress. And this image is a representation of things going on a moment ago. Who knows what will happen next?
You’re writing your autobiography. What’s your opening sentence?
No one intends to fall in love with an asshole, but it happens; just ask my late wife and current girlfriend; they are the two sitting in the corner shaking their heads as they read this sentence.
What are three objects you couldn’t live without?
If I’m being honest, there are far too many I would hate to give up. I guess I’ve got soft over the years. However, if I absolutely had these three items I couldn’t live without.
1. Coffee – I don’t care about the garbage talked about drinking coffee. Bad things happen when I don’t have my coffee; don’t test me on this subject.
2. iPad Pro 12.9 – This is such a versatile tool. I can read books, Listen to audiobooks, write, and take and edit photos. I’ve been using an iPad model for over a decade. It’s hard to imagine working without one. I even tried out several versions of the Samsung tablets and compared them. Though Samsung makes a solid product, I prefer the iPad.
3. My Briefcase – My briefcase is far cooler than the one in the photo, but you get the idea. I have several items for survival contained inside.
Items may include, but are not limited to, the following:
Well, that’s it. That’s all of it.
Have you ever unintentionally broken the law?
It isn’t like I was a Boy Scout or something. Because I wasn’t, but I wasn’t a hooligan either. Yet, I got into my fair share of mischief. Strangely, I hardly got in trouble when I knowingly broke the law. However, I remember getting the most trouble when I had no idea I had broken the law. This happened so much, I learned the phrase,”Ignorance of the law is no excuse!” It always was said with a steely monotone. So yes, I’ve broken the law on accident more times than I care to admit.
Here is my response to RDP’S reconcile
I had been for a long time until it ran out of places to go. I ended up here sitting in the darkness hollowed out. I expected to find anything once I arrived, but I found her. She was sipping gas station coffee, grimishing each sip. Her gaze trapped in the moment between breaths. We started something in the next moment that should have lasted a lifetime. She captured my heart, so I gave her my soul.War reared its ugly head and took her snarling. Before that moment, we argued. About what I can’t remember, but now it’s too late to reconcile.
My response to Sadje’s challenge
Do you like the age you are now?
This is one of the easiest questions I’ve answered in a while. The answer is YES. I love it. However, it feels odd to say so when that hasn’t been the case. For decades, I had this thing where I wanted to be older than my age. Almost like I was born during the wrong era or something. The problem I could never settle on a period I really wanted to be from.
Then was the whole “you’re just a kid. You’ll understand when you get older.” I hated being treated like a kid. I refused to believe that age possessed this fountain of wisdom that eluded my entire youth. Often, I wondered what age or day I was going to understand the mysteries of the world suddenly. Would it be on a weekday? Or on the weekends? I hoped for sometime during the week because, let’s face it, on the weekends, there was beer and women to be ignored by. Disgusted or disapproving looks from members of the opposite sex while standing obnoxious with the fellas is a rite of passage.
However, I would like to be on a Monday if it was during the week. Many complain about Monday’s, but I don’t mind so much. Over the years, I found several to be rather pleasant. Tuesdays would be alright, too, yet it doesn’t pop off on Mondays. Any day after is a negative ghost rider. There to much preparation from the pending weekend. You can’t be bogged down with a complex thought. I can see it now, sitting there tugging on your peach fuzz chins, saying, “Hmm.” For those fellas who could grow full beards in high school, I am jealous.
I enjoy my age now because all I have to do is sit around looking at people like they’re crazy. Who needs cable? Have you ever looked at the younger folks when you get older? They are hilarious, aren’t they? It’s alright. You can admit it. The only drawback is the random, unprovoked ailments that surface periodically. Yes, I said unprovoked. This is my story, and I’m sticking with it. I can speak my mind. I’m old enough to know better but too old to give a shit. After all this crap of wishing I was older, I’m finally in the winter of life. It gets a little chilly at times, but hey. Excuse me while I slip on a sweater.
CHALLENGE RESPONSE
Here is my response to RDP’s prompt: Ink
There’s a thud as my quill hits the desk. My inkwell unleashes a howl mixed with desperation and relief. It’s a little beside itself because I haven’t written anything of note in months. My eyes burn from what was supposed to be all-nighter, but really only a few hours of spits and starts. Baby steps, huh? They got to be better than not writing anything all. At least, that’s what I tell myself as I stare at the ink stained fingers of my aching hands.
I close my eyes and the let the stream of world of random thoughts fill my screen. Each word typed is attempt to rediscover the path to a coherent thought. A thought minus the lure of ineffective painkillers. Taken only to help you forget the torment you’re suffering momentarily. Yet, forget the principle of pain; it’s a reminder we are alive. Each wince, cringe, or scream a verse in the testimony of our lives
Bradbury got it right in a way. We are tattooed neath the surfaces. Each of those tattoos are alive illustrating the moments that matter . Moments we acknowledge, yet include the ones swear that mean anything, but touch us so deeply.
My inkwell unleashes a belch, then stretches. A metallic click fills the room as the licks its lips and throats a “Thank you!” I refill my quill and pull out a fresh notebook. Then lean back in my office chair to rest.
“I knew that shit, you’re such a fucking tease!” My quill and inkwell declare in unison.
I close my eyes and chuckle ….
Are there any activities or hobbies you’ve outgrown or lost interest in over time?
Throughout the years, I’ve collected one thing or another. In childhood most of my friends were collecting something. It seemed as though you weren’t a boy if you didn’t some sort of collection. This followed me into adulthood. However, just as it did childhood I would end losing interest or lose my prize of my collection that would render the entire collection worthless.
The hobby I was obsessed with that I have lost interest in is sports cards. I spent a ridiculous amount of time and money in collecting sports cards. I couldn’t tell you want happened to my collection. I can only say it has disappeared into that dimension where everything goes we lose. I’m sure I have a warehouse full of things in this unnamed dimension. I’d like to visit it one day, so I can clear some things out. You know organization is the key to everything..
The thing about sport cards for me is the fact you can a thousand cards stacked up somewhere that are absolutely worthless. You can’t trade them. You even give them away. There are just sitting there in a pile gathering dust. All in search of that coveted rookie card.
I’ve been here over a week. I’m not sure I have I left here on the front. My body is waging war against my spirit. My spirit is losing, but the battle is far from over. Last Monday, I walked into the ED thinking one thing and discovering another. Each day, we take another step toward victory. Each day, it feels we take five steps back toward defeat.
Despite this, I gaze upon the evening skew finding strength in its beauty. Each sighs becomes the breath of hope. In each breath I finds courage.
List five things you do for fun.
I live a simple life. Due to this, several folks accuse me of being unable to have fun. At first, this consensus troubled me. For 30 seconds, I considered that I might need to adjust my lifestyle. Once I explained my former everyday life, some turned green, others turned pale, and then my favorites informed me I’d earned the right to relax. I appreciate them saying that. I really do.
Here are my five things in no order. I do them whenever I feel like it.
That’s it. That’s all of it. The down and dirty.
When we have a conversation about leadership, one can find opinions and ideals with a few keystrokes. There are seminars, books, and articles thoroughly covering the subject. During my time in the military I read several in an attempt to find everything I could about becoming a better leader. I’ve listed a few below.
Principles of Leadership
Key leadership traits, each with a brief description:
Being a leader is more than the things found in books or articles. Leaders aren’t born. They are developed. Titles or positions don’t make you a leader. Learning how to handle the burden of leadership does. Good luck!
Here is my response to today’s Ragtag Daily Prompt – Time
Sitting within the wondering of unknown destiny.
Riding the waves of the abyss of sorrow.
Like the sands of the hourglass, the moments of a promiseless
tomorrow slip away
But…
Have you heard the news today?
Our kinsmen…
Our brethren…
Has passed away
Not of blood, but of spirit
What is felt goes by many names
yet the pain
remains the same
Remember…
He has been called home
to sit alongside our Master
and his golden throne
Boundfull
dutiful
we are
to acknowledge his words of passion and grace
for they have
Lifted us…
Caressed us…
Consoled us…
I wish to thank all those who have taken the time to read the ranting of a feeble mind.
From my stoop, on my soapbox, I stare into the abyss, then begin reading my list.
Life is short…
So kiss it…
taste it..
Close your eyes and
Savor it…
But most of all
LIVE IT !!!
One minute at a time
I wrote this piece years ago after the writing community had lost one of its brethren. To me, he was gentle, but wise soul with so much to offer. The writing community took a blow that day.
It doesn’t matter about the existence of time, moments we spend with one another count. Make the moments we spend even with strangers matter. Humanity’s most precious gift to one another is their time.
My response to RDP – Thursday – bamboozle
A spry little man named Barkan lived in the serpentine alleys of the ancient city of Khazan, notorious for its labyrinthine streets and enigmatic inhabitants. Barkan was not your average resident. He was a trickster, a master of bamboozles, and his clever ruses were the talk of the city.
Barkan was not always this cunning. Once upon a time, he was an innocent and naive boy. However, life in Khazan was tough, and the city’s harsh realities turned him into the wily person he had become. Yet, Barkan’s bamboozles were never harmful or malicious. They were light-hearted pranks aimed at teaching lessons to the arrogant and the pompous.
One day, a haughty nobleman named Lord Faizan visited Khazan. Rumors of Barkan’s bamboozles had reached him, and he was determined to outwit the trickster. Lord Faizan was known far and wide for his pride and arrogance, qualities that made him the perfect target for Barkan.
Upon his arrival, Lord Faizan announced a reward for anyone who could outsmart him. The city excitedly buzzed, and Barkan saw the perfect opportunity for his most significant bamboozle yet. He accepted the challenge, and the city held its breath, waiting for the grand showdown.
The next day, Barkan invited Lord Faizan to a feast at his humble abode. As the nobleman arrived, he was surprised by the simplicity of Barkan’s home. Little did he know, the grand bamboozle had already begun.
Here is my response for RDP Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday.
Let me be blunt from the beginning. The snow was coming down heavy, but the wind blew it sideways. The temperature was dropping rapidly. I didn’t want to be out here, but the gig paid the bills. Prices were so high that you bought a loaf of bread or a gallon of gas. I got a letter in the mail today. An old friend I hadn’t heard from since we both reeked of innocence. I was more than a little envious because he had found the love of his life. He had found happiness. Sighs … good on you, brother! Good on you.
I’ve been fortunate enough to have a network of people in my life who let me know daily I’m loved. They have no problem letting me know when I’m full of crap or any other adjective they choose to use at any given time. I can’t blame them or hold any ill will because I’m a handful, as they say.
You may remember a post I made last year about two individuals who were geniuses. If not, here is a link to that post. What I didn’t tell you is these incredible women have been putting up with my crap for well over a decade. Every rant, tantrum, or foul mood, they have endured it all. They have been with me while I was grief-stricken from the loss of my wife. They were there when I rebuilt myself as a writer and educator to witness me self-destruct through my battle with cancer.
My closest and dearest friend, my editor, you’ve heard me complain about on several occasions on this blog. She put down her red pen and helped me through my cancer battle. She stopped everything and came to the initial surgery. Then she returned for my cancer’s aggressive reemergence. 56 treatments later, I took her home and started to rebuild my life once again. Honestly, I would have been a basket case without her support through all of this madness.
A few years ago, I could barely breathe, and my lady showed up and put a foot in my butt and got me back on my feet. Mumbling something about she couldn’t leave it to me to get proper medical attention. Now, that wasn’t the vernacular she used during her time here. I’m sure you can imagine what was said to a stubborn person such as myself. Their words, not mine. I’m an utterly compliant person. I assure you.
It can’t be easy to deal with me, but their devotion, compassion, and love mean everything. It may even seem at times I don’t appreciate you, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. I love you and appreciate you both; never doubt this. Yep, you guys are a pain, but I love ya.
My response to RDP’s Wednesday prompt.
This morning, I was reviewing this prompt and trying to figure out how to approach it. I knew I didn’t have any photos that featured hatching of some kind. I ran across an image of an old hatchback and remembered our adventures in high school.
A buddy of mine brought a Datsun B210 hatchback and drove everywhere in that thing. Most of the time, there were three of us. We would travel to a nearby town so he could profess his undying love to his girlfriend. It was the stuff they write stories about for about six months. We would buy a case of beer Saturday night and head to the highway. I don’t remember her name or what she looked like.
We all professed our love at one time or another in that car. We traveled hundreds of miles doing so. I suppose we were allergic to the idea of having a local girlfriend. None of us ended up with any of the women that we loved so dearly. I haven’t seen those guys in over 30 years. However, I remember the times we spent together in that hatchback.
The Datsun we rode in looked like the one in the photo. The memories just flood back. In fact, our car didn’t have a reverse. So, whenever we parked, we’d stick our foot out of the car and push backward. I wonder what happened to those guys? I hope life was gentler than mine.
The morning chill creeps through my layers as I sit on my porch, twirling my finger playfully in my whiskers. I swallow a sip of coffee while tugging at them, lost in the depths of my thoughts. The amber glow of the collision between night and dawn illuminates the horizon. Today, a man was born that brought so much light to the world. His presence hurled us out of a darkness that had engulfed us for nearly a hundred years—a man whose vision, courage, and devotion to humanity will never be forgotten.
Sipping coffee, I watch the lights turn on one by one as the neighborhood awakens. A community in which I could have never lived if it wasn’t for this man’s efforts. Not because where I live now is better than where I grew up. Society’s attitude is better. I remember the speech of this brave man as a child being replayed every year during my youth: a vision of hope, love, determination, and courage. His speech or vision served as a beacon representing one of hell of a dream.
Now a seasoned man, I wonder if my efforts in life have helped fulfill that dream. We fought for God, Country, and the ideal of freedom. We spent countless hours away from home in pursuit of the vision on the mountaintop. The endless miles walked for the dream of the Promised Land. No mile did I walk alone. Each mile walked and every hour spent away was in the faith that a moment of hatred was erased. I hoped they would ring the bell of freedom. A sound heard in the souls of each man and woman in the land. A faith I held on to with all my might, even though it was sometimes fleeting.
Each time I heard the word Jew, it took away a little bit of hope. Whenever I heard the word cracker, freedom’s bell rang a little softer. Every time I heard the word spick or chili pepper, humanity’s love got a little weaker. Each time I heard the nigger humanity’s dignity lessen. However, each time I heard these, we fought harder to fulfill the dream of a man we had never known. We risked our lives to fulfill a dream our forefathers wrote nearly two hundred years before my birth.
I look upon my granddaughter, who shifts under her blanket of freedom provided by the fulfillment of this dream, a granddaughter who turns a year older today. She is allowed to live in a world and taste the crispness of a freedom that wouldn’t have been without his dream. A smile comes across my face as I finish my coffee. I smack my lips because I, too, taste the crispness of freedom in the fresh morning air.
Now, I’m a great-grandfather. I still taste the crispness of freedom in the morning air. It’s rather tasty!
Yesterday, I stood in line at a local store when the computer system went down. After a wave of groans and disapproving looks, the manager assured us the system would be online shortly. This didn’t help the groans. I understood a possible reason for the atmosphere. We were in the middle of a snowstorm, and the conditions were worsening by the second. However, examining the crowd, I’m pretty sure they would have been complaining regardless. Complaining is the latest trend, like yoga pants and foo-foo coffee.
The system took longer than expected, and the manager declared, “It’s like dial-up!” I shook my head, “Not even close,” I corrected. We had a laugh; the system was up a few seconds later, and all was right in the world. Within a few minutes, the grandson and I were inside, safe and warm.
I see this prompt, and I’m reminded of how impatient we all have become since the advancements of technology. Despite this, I pretty much communicate the same way I did at the start of all this. Other than things being a helluva a lot faster, I’m the same guy. I’ve added social media stuff from time to time, but I basically avoid it. With the exception of Twitter, there is a writing community over there that I’ve been a part of for nearly a decade.
So when things get crazy … I just think … I remember dial-up
What job would you do for free?
The unfinished projects have formed a pile. Ideas, rants, and incoherent sentences fester. Sometimes I wonder what Goofball gave me the idea to become a writer. Where the hell are they at? I need to hunt them down wherever they may cleverly hide. To the corners of the earth if I must. By God, I need to find and look at them square in the eyes and thank them. Pull them into an embrace. Please do not think less of me, for I may weep. They have provided me with a fantastic gift. You see, boredom will never be a problem for me. Inside each project is the potential to create something that never existed before. At the very least, the potential to heal.
Today has been the longest of days for no reason. Nothing I can put my finger on anyway. I got so much accomplished, but so much more to do. There isn’t enough time to get it all done. I never complete it all. My Lord, what will I do? What will I do? We have all said this statement, felt it, or both. It doesn’t matter if you don’t admit it. It’s fine. Know that wherever you are in your journey, we all have or will walk it. The trail right in front of you. You can get to the other side step by step, word by word, or sentence by sentence. Whatever the method you will be the better for it.
As I lay across my bed, I lit a cigarette, letting it burn in the ashtray for a few minutes before I took another drag. I read a poem in Vietnamese, then I listened to it. Next, I read some prose in Italian; then again, I listened to it. The beauty of the words captured me. I’m reminded of hearing The Holy Quran recited. So beautiful and tranquil. I’m reminded how much I miss Latin Mass. I memorized it as a lad and recited it in English when the priests performed Mass. Though exhausted, hearing these works in their native language healed and recharged me a bit.
I would not have discovered the beauty of our world if I had chosen another profession on the day they whispered to me to become a writer. Although we live in a vast world full of wonder and delight, I wonder why we live so small.
Nope, this is the only profession I would do for free. Nothing else completes me.
When are you most happy?
I find myself the most happy when I’m lost in a good story. It took a long time to figure out how to enjoy reading stories without my imagination taking off, and I lost interest in the story. I began making notes in little spiral notebooks of the thoughts that came to me as I read. Soon, those notebooks were being filled with my own stories. I’m unsure what makes me happier? The words of others or the words of mine? To me, it doesn’t matter, not really. As long as the story is good.
I remember when I was feeling down as kid, my mother would drag my butt over to our local DQ and get me one of these masterfully crafted desserts of deliciousness. She always knew just the right time to take me to get one. It never seemed like I knew the exact time. But I’m thinking I might need one today. It’s been a rough couple of months.
Questions like these make me roll my eyes and shake my head. It seems like the next thing they will be asking is,
“What does it all mean?”
What’s my place in the world?”
And more nonsense questions. I have this attitude because it is the decisions we make that cause us to become who we are.
Sure, we have situations in life we would like to do-over or take back. It’s just the nature of life. However, neither of those things are possible. So, when someone asks questions like these. I respond with the following question:
“You’ve had your entire life to prepare for this moment … why aren’t you ready?”
Every decision we have made in life has led to where we are … the good, the bad, and the ugly. Do we really want to change anything?
As always,
If you started a sports team, what would the colors and mascot be?
As a child, I remember watching baseball on television with my mother. I didn’t understand what I was watching, but I enjoyed my mother’s excitement as she watched her beloved “Cubbies.” However, the idea of playing the sport never really stuck. I played softball for a while but lost interest. I still enjoy watching the games when I have time to catch them. So, when I read this prompt, I knew I had to write a baseball story of sorts.
Once upon a time, a man named Rico Strong lived in a small town called Willowville. Rico was known far and wide for his extraordinary talent in training animals. He had a special connection with ferrets and platypuses and a dream – to create a baseball team like no other. But not just any baseball team; Rico wanted to form a team with pink ferrets and an angry platypus.
Rico had always been fascinated by the agility and quickness of ferrets. He believed their instincts and nimbleness would make them perfect for the outfield. As for the platypus, Rico had observed their fierce determination and strong-willed nature, which he thought would be ideal for a powerful pitcher. It was a crazy idea, but Rico was determined to make it a reality.
He traveled far and wide, scouring the world for pink ferrets and an angry platypus. He visited rainforests, deserts, and even remote islands in search of these unique creatures. He encountered countless challenges along his journey, but Rico’s determination never wavered. He faced treacherous terrains, wild animals, and even unexpected weather but pressed on, fueled by his unwavering passion.
Finally, after months of searching, Rico found what he was looking for. In a hidden valley deep within the mountains, he discovered a group of pink ferrets with shimmering fur. They were playful, agile, and had an undeniable charm. Rico knew he had struck gold with these ferrets.
But his journey wasn’t over yet. Rico had heard rumors of an angry platypus living in a far-off swamp. Determined not to give up, he ventured into the swamp despite the warnings of its dangers. And there, in a murky pond, Rico found the angry platypus. It was bigger and fiercer than he had imagined, with venomous spurs and a fiery gaze. Rico knew he had found the missing piece of his team.
With his team of pink ferrets and the angry platypus, Rico set out to fulfill his dream. He built a baseball field in Willowville with state-of-the-art facilities and a cheering crowd. Word quickly spread about his unique team, and people from all over came to watch the Traveling Pink Ferrets & Angry Platypus play. The team’s agility, speed, and determination were unmatched, making them a force to be reckoned with.
As the team played their games, they faced many challenges. They encountered teams with stronger hitters, faster runners, and more experienced pitchers. But Rico’s team had something special – their unbreakable bond and unwavering spirit. They supported each other, cheered on, and never gave up.
The Traveling Pink Ferrets & Angry Platypus became the talk of the town with their incredible plays and electrifying performances. They won game after game, leaving their opponents in awe. Rico’s unique team captured the hearts of the locals and, media and baseball enthusiasts worldwide.
Ultimately, the Traveling Pink Ferrets & Angry Platypus became more than just a baseball team. They symbolized courage, unity, and the power of following one’s dreams. Rico Strong’s extraordinary vision had turned a seemingly crazy idea into a remarkable reality.
And so, the legacy of the Traveling Pink Ferrets & Angry Platypus baseball team lived on, inspiring generations to come. Their story was passed down from one baseball fan to another, reminding everyone that anything is possible with passion, determination, and a little imagination. The team’s success paved the way for more unconventional and innovative approaches in sports, proving that sometimes, the most extraordinary things can come from the most unexpected places.
The Traveling Pink Ferrets & Angry Platypus left a lasting impact on the baseball world, forever etching their names in the annals of sports history. Their remarkable journey was a testament to the power of teamwork, dedication, and belief in the impossible. Rico Strong’s dream had not only come true but had exceeded all expectations, leaving an indelible mark on the hearts and minds of all who witnessed their extraordinary feats.
The rattling of the window in the wind wakes me. Slowly, I stretch away the night, my eyes shift from darkness to a haze, and my eyes shift into focus from slumber to reality. I hear the whirling hiss as the snow hits the screen. I make my way to the kitchen to brew some sanity. Its aroma filled the room in a matter of seconds. In minutes, I am nursing a cup by the window. The night has yet to surrender to dawn. Yet, to tuck itself away, partaking in the much-needed rest. If you look closely and catch it just right, you can see the snowflake’s form before it dissolves against the glass.
It is the perfect day for cuddling. Her head nestled in that special place. My breathing was slow, and my heart skipped a beat, so we were in unison. So that we are connected. Connected on the spiritual level, not just the profane, it is a perfect morning for loving. A soft, slow, lingering turns into a slow grind. To evolve into a breathless gasp that surrenders to a moan. A moan becomes a pant, then a scream, then a contentment sigh is released. Then, fall into a deep, coma-like sleep.
The night is coming, just like it did the night before. It really isn’t anything special to me, just a darker shade of grey. You see, I view the world through a pair of monochrome lenses. It’s been this way since birth, well, at least until I saw her. Her lips glowed like rubies, her hair seemed on fire, and something shimmery hung from her ears. I can only imagine these colors to be shades of red. Is this what red looks like? How beautiful, how enchanting. Who was she? Who was this woman in red?
How have your political views changed over time?
The short answer is NO. However, as I have gotten older and gained more experience, I better understand some of the motives. Politics is in almost every aspect of life. I would love to say, “I don’t do politics,” as I have said on several occasions, but that would be incorrect. What I mean is I prefer a straightforward approach to things. This way, one knows where they stand in a given situation. However, that’s not how things work, is it? There seems to be some hidden agenda.
My body is healing, so I’ve been sleeping a lot. It’s strange how remarkable the body can be if you allow it to do its thing. I haven’t been able to get much done in these past weeks, but I’ve had the strength to create. This is a blessing in itself. I may never return to being the man I was before all this happened, but honestly, they may not be such a bad thing. In part, it’s because of him; I’m in this situation, and it’s also because of him; I know I can survive it. Who or what will I be after it is all said and done? Who knows? But it’s gonna be fun figuring things out.
I took this photo a week before my health took a nose dive. I remember feeling horrible that day. However, I pushed through because I’m a tough guy and all that.
What is your all time favorite automobile?
In an earlier post, I discussed my dream cars, so in this response, I’ll talk about my favorite vehicle I have owned. I’ve owned several cars over the years. My first pickup truck was a 1969 Ford F-100. She was called ”The Gypsy” and was the ugliest vehicle I ever owned. However, she ran like a dream. I missed that ole’ girl.
How are you creative?
Although I have been writing and drawing since I was a kid, I never really considered myself to be creative. This isn’t because I wasn’t encouraged or anything like that. It’s partly because I was surrounded by very talented people. I just didn’t consider my work good enough to make the cut.
I suppose another issue is I never found a particular style I excelled in. I enjoy writing every genre. It’s nothing better than getting an idea down on paper and seeing where it goes. Sometimes, that’s no further than a notation in a notebook or scribbled on a scrap of paper.
Lately, my friends have been expressing in my photography. I have to admit I enjoy capturing the images and seeing what stories they tell me. Yet, recently, I have been discovering the stories within themselves.
I must say I’m lucky. I get to tell stories by writing, photos, or film. Every now and then, I get combine all three. It’s special when things work out that way. When writing a screenplay, I must rely on imagery to get it done. This can be a challenge for a narrative fiction writer.
This is where the photography comes into play. I can capture images and use them as templates of the world I’m trying to create. This can be done with a video camera, but sometimes, the stills just work better for me.
Often, I sketch ideas and then try to find them in the real world. Well, I guess I’ve babbled enough for you to get the idea.
As always,
What are your favorite physical activities or exercises?
There is nothing like taking a walk. I would add cigarettes and coffee to the mi, but that would only dimish the benefits. I was poor as a child, we had two ways to get anywhere; walking or riding your bike. In some cases, you ended up doing both. So I learned early to enjoy the journey. To freely allow the thoughts in my head to run wild. No one there sticking their opinion mudding up the process.
Even now, I walk with headphones on. The music provides a blanket shielding me from the outside. I hear my thoughts exhale, clear their throats, and call the rest of my body to order. My arms and legs are moving in unison to a subconscious rhythm. Yet, I realize my breathing is setting the tempo. My thoughts and ideas line up to me counted.
Next, I exclaim, not looking up at the next idea waiting to have their say.
“Good day, Mr. Khan”
“Good day.” I reply, waiting for them to get on with it. They take a moment to gather themselves to ensure not to waste my time. I’m thankful for the gesture actually. I can’t count the numerous times progress has been striflield by a ridiculous idea.
‘“Well get on with it,” I nudge.
“You see Sir, I been thinking the story needs a bit of restructuring.” Idea stated.
“How so?” I questioned. The idea went on to explain its opinion in great deal. I have to admit I like the idea. But I couldn’t let this go unchallenged. It was the principle of the thing. I can’t be having ideas rushing up to me at hours of the night thinking they’re to get their say. The other day I saw a wanna-be Picasso paint his cat pink.
Painting a cat pink, really?
Uncle Willie told me a story about a fella who had an idea to impress a woman. We all know the lengths men go to impress women. It’s ridiculous the things we come up with. Well this fella, got the idea that the women of his dreams was worth it. He met her at the local bowling alley. The story goes, she liked him well enough, but she always wanted to see what a kangaroo looked like up close. For months, they’d meet at the bowling alley and talk, but she kept bringing up the kangaroo thing. Finally, the fella invited her to fly with him to Australia to see a kangaroo. Her reply was that she didn’t know him well enough to go on a trip like that. What kind of woman did he think she was?
Cedric, the fella, was determined to have Gretchen, the woman, by any means necessary. So, he contacted a navy buddy who owed him a favor and got a damn kangaroo. Christmas Day 1966, when the bowling alley was closed, arranged for the place to open and convinced Gretchen to meet him there. So, Gretchen’s Christmas present was a kangaroo, named Rocky. Of course, Gretchen didn’t have any place to keep Rocky, so he lived with Cedric. Christmas 1967, they were married. The marriage lasted five years. Gretchen got the house and Rocky in the settlement. I know this may be hard to believe, but here is a photo from the day Gretchen and Rocky met.
Aunt Willie, on my father’s side, a bit touched if you listen to Nana. Despite this, Aunt Willie, was the most successful pig farmer in the state. A winter’s back, Aunt Willie got a notion that Charlene and Jessup, her pet pigs didn’t want to spend the winter in the cold. So, she pack them up and took them to the beach. The local took exception to the pigs at the beach and made a big ruckus. However, Aunt Willie was to snap a picture of Charlene and Jessup before things got out of hand.
I have to admit I’m a bit jealous, they look rather peaceful.
There’s nothing like a good stroll to clear your mind and you get a little exercise to boot.
What cities do you want to visit?
I’ve been pretty fortunate in my life, for the most part. I’ve done a great deal of traveling in my lifetime. I found myself in places I didn’t know existed and places I thought you only read about in travel books that lay on the coffee tables of most of my friend’s living rooms. I remember several mothers sitting in their chairs, thumbing through the magazines, sporadically mentioning something that caught their eye. Honestly, I never imagined leaving the state, let alone leaving the country.
Despite my travels, there are a few cities I wouldn’t mind visiting. Crete, Milan, and Sydney.
While I was stationed in Korea, a few friends of mine got the notion that we wanted to spend Christmas in Australia. This is the same crew that participated in the high jinxes of I Got Drunk in Korea and Woke Up in Japan. Not familiar with that story? Click here. Now, we intended to have a relatively tame experience in comparison to the previously mentioned adventure, but no fun is for suckers. At least, that was the favorite saying of one of the members of the crew.
The unit we assigned was constantly on alert status. So, I was on call 70 percent of the time I was there. Another specialist was assigned to the unit about a couple of months before the holidays, and he finally had enough training to take a shift. This meant I got a much needed break. My plans were to drink and drink some more. I had never been one to plan anything special. I just kind of went with the flow. The crew suggested the Australia trip. I thought about it and responded with why not. We didn’t have much money, so we couldn’t afford plane tickets. This is where I came in. I was the idea guy. So I made a call, and there was a Hop over to Australia.
I couldn’t believe it. Christmas in Sydney. I got all excited, so the fever had got to us all. We put in for passes and packed our bags. We rode the bus as far south as possible, then took a cab. There we were at the airport, congratulating one another. The only problem was on a Hop it was space available. You could get bumped for several reasons. So, we sat anxiously waiting to see if we could catch the flight. One of the guys flirted with a female Airmen, and she assured us we would be good to go. I wasn’t paying it, but who knows it might work out.
As it turned out, the Airmen was true to her word; we got seats. We were heading to the plane and heard an announcement over the intercom. I didn’t hear what was said initially, but the guys grabbed me and said come on. The announcement had called for us by name, which only meant one thing: our unit was on alert. So, the plan was to pretend we didn’t hear the announcement and get on the flight. We could deal with any punishment when we got back, So we hid and waited for an opening to board the plane.
The opening we had been waiting for had finally arrived. We were making our move towards the plane when I heard a soft voice behind me.
“You gonna make me chase you, soldier?”
Sydney was 100 feet away. I could make it. However, I turned around to look into the eyes of one of the most beautiful women I had seen. I tried not to react, but apparently, my expression gave me away.
The MP sergeant stepped to me and said softly,” Let me guess, you think I’m cute and don’t take me seriously?” I swallowed and presumed the position of parade rest. Three extremely large MPs joined her, bearing no-nonsense expressions. She studied me momentarily with her emerald eyes and then nodded.
“Follow us, soldiers,” she ordered.
She and another soldier drove us back to our unit. Defeated, we exited the van and were met by our boss. He looked relieved at the sight of us, which meant things were bad. I turned to look back at the van and gazed right into the eyes of the Sergeant again. We held each other gaze momentarily, and then they drove off. For the next three days, I didn’t sleep. I worked on what seemed like every system we had. The chatter was they would strike us from multiple fronts, but it turned out to be nothing but smoke.
I finally made it to my rack late in the morning, Christmas day. The scratchy wool blanket and worn out pillow never felt so good.
“Wiz….Wiz!” my boss woke me from my coma. “Step lively … free booze,” he continued. I jumped into a pair of jeans and a sweater. We got the NCO Club, and there was an amazing spread. The crew was already there slipping on wine. I instantly perked up. It was a lovely dinner, and after a couple, only a few of us left drinking and telling stories. Then I heard a familiar soft voice.
“May we join you?” the voice asked, I looked up into the eyes of the MP sergeant. She had three other women with her. “These are my friends; I hope you don’t mind?” she asked. I looked at my friends, who were grinning like schoolboys. I nodded, and they all sat down. Each of them took their pick. The sergeant sat next to me.
“I’m Fiona, and you are?” she asked, smiling. She knew exactly who I was. We chuckled and enjoyed the rest of the night with our friends.
It wasn’t Sydney, but that Christmas turned out okay.
As Always
Have you ever performed on stage or given a speech?
I’ve given speeches and lectures several times during my adulthood. However, I’ve been a victim of stage fright. Yet, I’ve done so many of them you couldn’t tell. However, I’ve only performed on stage once.
My stage debut was in a musical called Let George Do It. My teacher came into the class and told us we would perform a musical for the whole school. I didn’t understand what that really meant, but I listened. I can’t remember how this happened, but I ended up with the lead part of George Washington. Of course, since this was a musical, the lead role required me to sing. I didn’t sing then, and I don’t sing now. However, I figured my refusal to sing would indeed send me to the back, where I could pretend to sing along. As it turned out, my teacher had other ideas.
She decided I speak all the parts of the lead role. I was terrified, but somehow I got through it. Unbeknownst to her, this brilliant move launched my public speaking career. I’m indebted to her for that. It has served me well over the years. Thanks teach.
Are you a good judge of character?
I would like to think I’m a decent judge of character overall. However, there have been occasions over the years where I have been hoodwinked. I’m sure most you may have experienced this phenomenon and probably don’t like it anymore than I do.
Because of being hoodwinked in the past, I’m not as trusting of people as I had in the past. Despite this, I try to keep an open mind. I have found that there are times when I have been surprised by people. It doesn’t happen often, but it does happen.
People are going to be who they are. I just hope I’m not hoodwinked.
PROSE
My response to RDP – Tuesday prompt: Comedy
Perhaps it’s the absurdity of the sign. Are we to believe this man will actually pay for Karate lessons? Perhaps, on some measures, we respect his creativity. I’m reminded of a conversation I had with a panhandler. He approached me slowly, which put me on guard. Slow moving objects make me nervous. I must have given him a look because he stopped in his tracks. He asked for a cigarette; I nodded and signaled him to continue approaching. I handed him a cigarette. He looked at the cigarette and said he didn’t smoke non-methol. I started laughing and asked if he was serious. He handed me back the cigarette and said, “Hell yeah!” I shook my head and walked away.
I was at the car show working, and suddenly, this Yahoo told me to take his picture. I didn’t pay attention to the photo until he asked if I looked at it. Well, when I did, I saw this. So tonight, we were giving each other a hard time, and I told him I would post this photo. I always try to be a man of my word.
I’ve learned something over the last few months, life can be the greatest tragedy or a joyous comedy. The person living makes the choice.
What’s your favorite cartoon?
I watched so many cartoons as a child I can’t remember them all. Of course, the classics like Scrooby-Do and Bugs Bunny. However, there was one cartoon that appeared later. GI-Joe ended up being my jam. It might have sparked from having the action figure GI Joe with the kung-fu grip. Whatever the reason, I enjoyed every episode I was able to catch. What’s cool is that YouTube has all the episodes.
Here’s my response to pensitivity101‘s Share Your World
Here are this week’s questions:
Gratitude:
Knowing you’re loved is priceless.
Over the last several weeks, I’ve had a rough go of it, to put it mildly. What I have learned and been reminded of is that I’m loved. There is no doubt about that.
What is your idea of a good holiday? Seeing the sights, lazing on a beach, hitting the night spots, getting away from it all……………….
My favorite holiday in the U.S. is Thanksgiving. It’s all about the food. Dishes you haven’t had all year are waiting for you to gorge yourself into oblivion. There are no diets or anything like that. In short, it is the ultimate cheat day. Another thing about this holiday, perhaps the most important, is being with family. It doesn’t get any better than that.
You are offered tickets to a show. Which would you prefer, Opera, Play, Cinema, Entertainment, Ice Gala, or something else?
During my 50th birthday celebration, a friend took me to see Cirque du Soleil. I remember complaining the entire trip to the show. Grumbling nonsense about any and everything. My friend stood her ground and let me rant. She had gotten us incredible seats, and the show was amazing. The gracefulness of the performers was breathtaking. It was an ice show, so I kept waiting for someone to face plant. Didn’t happen. I would watch something like that again.
Have you ever won a sports trophy (or something similar for a particular achievement):
I was a jock during my youth, so I picked up a few trophies here and there. My mother kept them in a bag. I received awards while serving in the military. I used to call the wall my wife hung them on “The Wall of Shame.” Don’t get me wrong. I’m proud of the time I spent in the military. There is no question that it helped shape me into the man I am today. I never did buy into the whole medal thing. It was more about what we were doing and its importance. However, there was an occasion when I was recognized for an achievement. I got no medal or ceremony, just a simple handwritten thank you note. That gesture means more to me than any awards.
What is your dream car (fact or fictional):
As a child, I remember being enthralled by several cars before settling in on my favorite. I still can’t pick a definite favorite, but two stand out. In 1979, the cult classic Phantasm was released. It was a tripped out movie that didn’t make any sense to me at the time. However, my friends and I still talk about that movie. Not as much as we did as kids, but now and again, someone will mention a line at the perfect moment, and we just laugh.
There were several notable characters in that film, but it wasn’t a character that caused the movie to be bookmarked in my mind; it was the car. A Plymouth Barracuda raced away, rescuing the characters and taking them to safety. From that moment, that was my car. I did my best to learn about that model car, but I discovered something different that I loved even more. A 1968 Plymouth Hemi Cuda became my jam. Take a look
As I got older and started my journey into becoming a mechanic with my father, I learned more about cars and their capabilities. My father was aware of my infatuation with the Hemi but schooled me about the other muscle cars of that era. My appreciation grew for American Muscle. I had the privilege of building and repairing several different ones with my dad. I’m more of a circuit head than a gearhead. Yet, I love mechanics; it’s in me bones. After Pop went to the otherside of the veil, I found myself watching old movies with car chases: Smokey and the Bandit, Dukes of Hazzard, The French Connection, and finally, Bullitt. I found my second love, a 1968 Ford Mustang – GT-500. Let’s take a look at the scene that grabbed me.
However, a different year model of Mustang, the movie Gone in 60 Seconds, the remake with Nicolas Cage, featured a 1967 GT-500. The original featured a 1971 Mustang, a beast in her own right but not as sexy. Here are two clips that express my love for this car.
It would seem my idiocracy has no bounds. It’s like I’ve become the type of person I never wanted to be. The kind of person I typically avoid at all costs. There are those among us who refuse to look at things thoroughly. They have a slanted view of the world and the events that occur within it. They refuse to accept certain truths and live in an alternate reality. It’s not even a cool one where there are flying cars and no sick people. It is a place where we live in harmonic lives, and “Rex,” the family golden retriever, always brings the ball back.
Now, life isn’t that way. There aren’t any flying cars yet, people get sick and sometimes die, and Rex, even though he still has the heart, doesn’t bring the ball back because he doesn’t have the legs for it anymore. In this reality, we face what comes: we laugh, we love, we cry, and most importantly, we fight. We do this for no other reason than to prove our time here mattered. Even if it only matters to ourselves. Trust me, it’s enough.
For the past several weeks, I’ve been ignoring the obvious. I’ve been ignoring; there’s a price to pay for my arrogance. When my health went into the toilet, I made several lifestyle changes and figured I would be good from there as long as I continued on the right track. Well, it didn’t quite work out that way. Yes, I must stay the course with the changes I made, but the negligence that caused the changes in the first place has done more than I had anticipated.
In short, pay attention to your body. Please don’t dismiss certain things as testaments of getting older. Yes, some things are due to age, but others aren’t. This isn’t something I read somewhere but something I learned the hard way.
Stay strong…Be Blessed…
Image Credit: by Mangus Khan. Last year when my body was talking to me, but I wasn’t listening.
What is your favorite place to go in your city?
As a child, I developed a fondness for spending time in the parks. I would ride my bike to the different parks in my hometown. Each time I relocate, I drive around the new location to find the parks in the area. I search the surrounding areas for national parks, wildlife refuges, or reserves. I loved spending time in nature. It helps me to clear my head. I’ve written some of my best story ideas in these places. One of the reasons I love my iPad.
So, I take my trusty Nikon and cell as a backup to capture the glimpses of the world that usually only reside in our memories that fade over time. From time to time, they appear in fragments that invoke smiles whose warmth melts away the grime.
I love to combine challenges, so I took the opportunity to participate in a challenge I came across earlier this month. Here is my entry for XingfuMama’s Pull Up a Seat Challenge
I’m unsure if you have noticed, but I haven’t been posting a lot over the last week or so. It wasn’t due to the holidays, but I wish it had been. Despite all the progress I’ve made regarding my health, I developed a new issue. If I’m being honest, it’s that sporadically appeared over the years I just ignored. However, now it can’t be ignored. So, like a good little boy, I’m addressing the issue and taking it seriously. In case you were wondering, I’m also eating all my vegetables and stuff.
Despite my current challenges, I’ve been reading and attempting to develop new content for the blog. Yes, I’m aware some of you are waiting for me to finish several projects that currently exist on the blog. I assure you I have every intention to finish them, but I’m a bit scattered brain at the moment. My senior editor would say being scattered brain is normal for me, but even she had to admit the other day that my current state is a bit peculiar.
“Hush, and go to bed,” I believe were her words, but I have to admit there is a possibility they could have been harsher. She gets testy when it comes to my health. It’s weird. Yet, the writers among us, there are hardly many things worse than a testy editor.
Yet, I wonder if I continue being a good boy, will my lady pat me on the head and give me a treat?
I feel next door to nothing.
Image Credit: Ashkan Foroduzani – Upsplash – original
Image Editing: Mangus Khan – Monochrome conversion
unsplash.com/photos/grayscale-photography-of-beer-tap-handle-eQ366XJRgu0
It’s never too late to believe
What’s your favorite month of the year? Why?
I had to think a moment before answering this prompt. There are several months of the year that hold a special place.
November is special because it’s officially sweater season, and my sweater game is ridiculous. Early April is nice. It’s the beginning of planting season. I love digging in Spring dirt, hoping something magical will occur in a few weeks.
May is my favorite month.
What book are you reading right now?
Typically, I read several books at once. However, lately, I’ve slowed down quite a bit. Over the last few months, I’ve been reading one at a time. This month, I’ve been reading crime noir novels. One of the best crime writers in the business is James Ellroy. He created a series called the L.A. Quartet. I wasn’t aware of this before I started reading L.A. Confidential.
This book is a solid read so far. I will write a complete of the book upon finishing it. Yep, I’m feeling another installment of the Knucklehead Report.
I’m brilliant on most days and an idiot on others. However, there are special moments when I’m both. Life balance, I know, crazy, right? However, what makes today one of those special moments is that I failed to consider the depth of concern others had for me. What I just said doesn’t make sense, but work with me for a moment.
I knew they were concerned, but I hadn’t realized it had approached the fear level. As we know, some people get mean when they are afraid. They can’t allow anyone to see them vulnerable. I can’t blame them; society has indoctrinated us into believing fear is evil and should be eradicated at all costs. So, I get it.
I certainly didn’t intend to worry anyone, but it happened. Now, I wonder how to fix it or make things better. I suppose the answer is simple. Take care of yourself and listen for once. For I would like to point out for the record, I am an amazing listener; I just do all the things I hear.
Once, I mistakenly made my wife aware of my superpower of being able to repeat verbatim what she’d said. In my mind, this was the move to shut this nonsense down. What was to follow can only be described as a teachable moment.
1. Do not under any circumstances let your wife know you can remember everything she says. STOP! I DO NOT CARE! We have an acceptable preprogrammed excuse in play. Learn to roll with it. By all means, keep your mouth shut. I know this is difficult. Especially, when you are troubled by responses you made to her during the conversation she had with you in her head.
Acceptable exceptions for the display of your superpower. The sweet, cute, thoughtful, and aww-evoking moments in life. Use your powers during these moments and all life will be infinitely better. Let me be clear at this point. There can be no good to come from pointing out flaws in their logic just for the sake of doing so.
I learned this lesson from a friend, an old-school cat daddy, who took me under his wing and started dropping jewels. He had one eye gone, and the other looked as if it had seen better days, but they were fearful. So, I figured he might have something important to say.
“Youngblood, hey, Youngblood,” he said motioning for me to join him. I stood there momentarily considering what he could possibly want.
“I know you see me, get over here, before I got to get up.” He threatened. Dante’ Mays had done time in at least three different states on multiple occasions. The chances of him making good on his threat were good.
For the next 45 minutes, he explained his version of life lessons. This happened some time ago and I still find myself referring back to the conversation that day. I had seen his wife, she was the sweetest woman you would ever want to meet, but she had this gaze. I wondered if she might have been the reason he lost his eye.
Pay attention to lesson one. Learn it, Know it, Live it.
Always listen to the whispers of the dark. They just might save you.
What will your life be like in three years?
If I’ve learned anything as of late, it is life is the uncertainty of life. However, if things go as planned, I will be retired in decent health. Decent health because good health left a few years back. It didn’t even leave a note. I think I feel some sort of way about the whole affair. Often, I wonder what I will do with myself during retirement. The short answer is … Whatever I want.
First, I will buy a support truck filled with motorcycle parts. I will be the last to retire, and we plan to drive the historic Route 66 on motorcycles. My job at this point is to drive the support vehicle to handle any maintenance issues that may arise. All of us are former mechanics, so no worries about being able to handle any issues that may occur.
Next, I will ensure all camera equipment is ready to document the trip. This list includes video camera, DSLR, dash cam, and spares of all the accessories. I will bring plenty of notebooks to record my rants. It’s sacrilege to have a good rant go undocumented. I will also include an iPad and laptop for those lazy days. Well, that’s the plan anyway.
However, who knows?
How do you manage screen time for yourself?
The first time I noticed my iPad notifying me about my screen time usage was disturbing. I didn’t know it was a thing until that point. I wondered why it tracked this information and what it would do with it. So, instantly, I pulled out my journal and started hashing out theories about what “The Man” would do with this information. Tracking my screen time, what? They better get out of here with that mess.
Of course, I was in a full PTSD episode, and my paranoia was out of control. Despite this, I took steps to limit my screen time. I still use most of them.
I manage my screen time the old fashion way. I pick up a book. I have no problem getting lost in a story of another design. However, if I’m working on a story or an idea for an article, I write down things down in a journal. I practice stream of consciousness writing. This exercise frees me from the confides of my mind. It allows me to forget about time and distractions. I usually have a audiobook playing in the background. Interesting enough, research suggests that visual reading and audiobooks stimulate the same region of the brain. Crazy, I know.
Listening to audiobooks for me took some getting used to. I found myself getting distracted. However, over time I use as an exercise in active listening. Well that’s it. That’s all of it.
As many of you know, I like to combine challenges. So, today we are combining Six Word Story and #WRITEPHOTO – Tour. Let’s get to it, shall we?
I don’t care, not riding that!
What was your favorite subject in school?
I could lie here, but I won’t. I could spin a fantastic but believable yarn about something that has nothing to do with the question. I’m a fiction writer; it’s what I do. You know, it’s my jam. One might even say it was my birthright. There are several writers in my family and all. I love learning. But school? I needed that like I needed another hole in my head. So, like any other flagrantly bored kid, I became a miscreant. A chatterbox, class clown, or any other thing I could think of that keeps me entertained. I considered my antics to be my responsibility to keep things lively. Until one day, my actions had reached their limit.
My mother tried to call my father, his secretary, a battle-axe of the highest order, my father’s description, not mine. I was too young to know what battle-axe meant and refused to disturb dear ole’ pop. So, my mother hung up the phone. By her expression, trouble was afoot. When my father came home, I was dismissed from the room. My mother started in on my father before he read his newspaper, a cardinal sin. Ticking off my mother, however, was a deadly sin. As I listened through the vent, I heard my mother go into lurid detail about her dissatisfaction.
Allow me to provide a snippet …
Mother: GGGGRRRRRRRRR!!!!
There might have been flames. I couldn’t be sure. Once, during a bedtime story, Mother confessed to being part dragon.
Father: But…But … But … I can explain.
By the sound of his voice, it was apparent my father was miserable. I remember being scolded by my mother, and it wasn’t anywhere close to the level of what I heard. I felt miserable.
Afterward, Father came into my room and gave me the look. You know, the one parents give their children that lets the child know whatever reason they are showing that look stops now. Then he followed it with the look that only evolves in the following.
Action One: The head immediately drops down and avoids eye contact.
Action Two: Shoulders droop with the execution of a defeated sigh. There is a slight hesitation between the droop and the sigh. Timing is everything.
This is the most crucial of the actions. Execution is paramount. One could have nailed the first two actions, but bugger the third. It’s over. Here are a few suggestions I have witnessed and used in the past.
Now, my father stood there looking at me strangely. I knew my execution was flawless. Yet, I wondered why he hadn’t left the room. I had to resist the temptation to speak. It might ruin the effectiveness of my performance. Finally, he said.
“You know,” he started. We are aware that nothing good comes from sentences starting off like that. I attempted to settle as I thought, “Oh Boy!”
“When I was young, I always wanted a knucklehead son and look a knucklehead!” he said, gesturing towards me. He turned and headed out of the room.
“You know,” he said. There’s that phrase again.
“The apology was good. Very good, if I’m being honest. I almost bought it. Your timing was off. You’ll have to step up your game to fool your mother.” he finished and walked the room.
I never did fool my mother. I think my father derived a bit of pleasure from watching me try. In the present, I can say that English was my favorite subject. I used it to become a decent storyteller. I enjoy putting words together like a puzzle.
I’d like to thank Cyranny’s Cove for doing us the courtesy of providing inspiring words that shaped this story. If you haven’t checked out the site, get over there.
I hope you enjoyed today’s story. Trying to make the words fit the story in my head was hard. But I had a blast.
One of my favorite forms of writing is poetry. For years I have been trying to figure why? Perhaps, in it’s many forms it represents the truth of us. The truth that is only told within the lines we write. There’s something majestic about poetry that can’t be explained in words no matter how hard we try. But at least we can do is highlight one of its many forms.
Acrostic poems are a unique and creative expression used for centuries to captivate readers and convey profound messages. In this article, we will delve into the format of acrostic poems, exploring their structure, techniques, and the power they hold in making meaning come alive.
What is an Acrostic Poem?
An acrostic poem is a type of poetry where the first letter of each line when read vertically, spell out a word, phrase, or name. This format adds depth and meaning to the poem, as the chosen word or phrase often serves as a theme or central idea.
The Structure of Acrostic Poems:
Acrostic poems typically consist of multiple stanzas, with each line beginning with a letter that contributes to the hidden word or phrase. The number of lines in each stanza can vary, depending on the poet’s preference and the length of the word or phrase used.
Techniques for Crafting Acrostic Poems:
Choosing the central word or phrase: The first and most crucial step in creating an acrostic poem is selecting the word or phrase that will be spelled out vertically. This choice sets the tone and theme of the poem. Brainstorming: Once the central word or phrase is chosen, the poet can brainstorm words, phrases, or ideas associated with each letter. This helps in constructing meaningful and coherent lines for the poem. Wordplay and creativity: Acrostic poems allow for wordplay and creativity, as poets can experiment with different ways to express their thoughts and emotions within the constraints of the format.
The Power of Acrostic Poems:
Expressing hidden meanings: Acrostic poems provide an opportunity to subtly convey hidden meanings or messages within the poem. This adds an element of intrigue and depth to the reading experience. Engaging the reader: The format of acrostic poems engages the reader’s curiosity and encourages them to actively participate in deciphering the hidden word or phrase. It creates a sense of interaction between the poet and the reader. Enhancing memorability: Acrostic poems have a unique quality that makes them memorable. The deliberate arrangement of letters and the challenge of uncovering the hidden word or phrase leaves a lasting impression on the reader.
Wailing
Howls
Incongruity
Solitude’s
Perdurable
Exemplary
Resolve
What’s the coolest thing you’ve ever found (and kept)?
As a child, I could be classified as strange or weird. I spent a great deal of time alone riding my bike or sitting by the lake staring at nothing. One day, I noticed a radio on bench. I waited all day for someone to come back for it. It was nice and fancy radio. I was sure someone would return for it. However, no one ever did. I took the radio home, but my mother made me return it. We waited until dark and no one came back. So she let me keep it. I played that radio every day until one day it just stopped.
I learned how to repair radios after that. I’ve built them out of spare parts. I’ve listened to radio broadcasts from around the world.
A few years later, my mother made me change schools. I wasn’t a problem child or anything so I couldn’t understand I had to leave all my friends. It seemed like the end of the world, but it wasn’t. I swore I didn’t belong there and would never make any friends. However, one kid took upon himself to be my friend. While everyone else treated me like a pariah. This kid did his best to make me feel welcome. I don’t think I ever thanked him for that.
One day, we found a rabbit’s foot by the school we so excited. About what I can’t remember why, but none of that matters. What matters is at that moment we made a lasting memory. Something I didn’t know until decades later. Well my friend has kept that rabbit foot all these years. When he told me he still had the rabbit’s foot I couldn’t believe it.
It’s cool finding a radio would change my life. The coolest things I’ve found are a shortwave radio and rabbit’s foot
I’ve been a history buff my whole life. I can quite literally spend emerged in the annals of time. Who, what, and why, the unsolved mysteries, or trying to separate truth from legend. My first love affair started with the Old West: the hats, the six-shooters strapped to them, and the steadfast sense of justice.
One can’t talk about the Old West without talking about the trains. I remember as a boy walking the tracks; my arms outstretched while I tried rather unsuccessfully to keep my balance on the track. When I got older, I would jump from car to car. I still have an extreme fascination with trains. Let’s take a few moments to discuss the creation of the railroad.
The Transcontinental Railroad stands as a monumental achievement in American history, forever changing the landscape of transportation and communication. Completed in 1869, this groundbreaking project connected the eastern and western coasts of the United States, spanning nearly 2,000 miles. In this post, we will explore the significance of the Transcontinental Railroad and its impact on the nation’s development.
The construction of the Transcontinental Railroad was no small feat. The task of laying tracks across vast terrains, including rugged mountains and scorching deserts, required incredible engineering skills and determination. Thousands of workers, including Chinese immigrants, Irish immigrants, and Civil War veterans, toiled under harsh conditions to make this vision a reality. They faced numerous challenges, from blasting through mountains to traversing treacherous landscapes. The railroad’s completion shortened travel time from coast to coast from several months to just a matter of days, revolutionizing trade and commerce.
One of the most remarkable aspects of the Transcontinental Railroad was its role in unifying a divided nation. At its completion, the United States was still recovering from the wounds of the Civil War. The railroad acted as a symbol of progress and reconciliation, connecting the once-disparate regions of the country. It fostered economic growth, encouraged migration, and strengthened ties between communities. People from different backgrounds and walks of life came together to work on the railroad, forging new connections and friendships. The Transcontinental Railroad became a powerful force in promoting a sense of national identity and solidarity among Americans.
The Transcontinental Railroad had a profound impact on the nation’s economy. It opened up new markets and facilitated the transportation of goods across the country faster and more efficiently. Farmers and manufacturers now had access to larger consumer bases, leading to increased production and prosperity. The railroad also played a crucial role in the growth of urban centers along its route, stimulating the development of industries and creating new job opportunities. The Transcontinental Railroad transformed the United States into a global economic powerhouse, with goods flowing seamlessly from coast to coast.
The construction of the Transcontinental Railroad brought together people from diverse backgrounds and cultures. Former Slaves and Chinese immigrants played a significant role in building the railroad, contributing their expertise and labor. Their presence and contributions had a lasting impact on American society, shaping its cultural landscape. The Transcontinental Railroad spurred innovation and technological advancements. Engineers and inventors developed new methods and technologies to overcome the challenges of building the railroad, leading to advances in engineering, communication, and transportation that had far-reaching effects beyond the railroad itself.
The completion of the Transcontinental Railroad was a monumental achievement that forever changed the course of American history. It not only connected the nation physically but also symbolized unity and progress. The railroad revolutionized transportation, fostered economic growth, and played a crucial role in the nation’s development. The impact of this extraordinary engineering feat can still be felt today, reminding us of the power of human ingenuity and the boundless possibilities of collaboration. The Transcontinental Railroad is a testament to the vision, dedication, and hard work of countless individuals who came together to connect a nation.
Name the most expensive personal item you’ve ever purchased (not your home or car).
For most things, I’m a tightwad, even described as squeezing a penny so tight you can see the booger in Lincoln’s nose. There’s truth in that statement, with one exception. When it comes to my tech, I Typically spare no expense.
I don’t run out buying tech all willy-nilly. There will be none of that nonsense. Each piece of equipment must be researched again and again before purchase. Despite this rule, I keep equipment long after it should be replaced or upgraded.
Examples of this devotion to all things frugal: I shoot most of my photos with a secondhand Nikon D3200 and process video on a MacBook Pro. The MacBook Pro was ridiculously priced but is worth the coin. I’ve worn out three Windows boxes since I purchased my Mac.
My Sony FS5 was by far the most expensive equipment I own. She is old but gets the job done. I’m looking for a new camera body to possibly replace my Nikon. It’s going to cost an arm and leg, but what am I going to do? I have no choice, you know? Men and their toys and all.
What is good about having a pet?
I know there are people in this world who don’t entertain the idea of having a pet. I get it. They can be messy, expensive, and a lot of work. They even of the nerve at times to look at you as if you have done something inappropriate.
Let’s not mention, talking to them and they completely ignore or disregard what your saying to them.
Seven years, I been dealing with this fella. Not so much as peep. You’d think if you dig holes in a guys years for that long, you could be at least friendly.
Sophie was a rescue and we have been together for two years now. I truly believe we rescued each other. I have bad days sometimes and she seems to understand when I’m having a hard time and comes to me. It’s quite amazing if you think about it.
Now, I going to provide some general information about ESA’s and their benefits.
Emotional support animals play a crucial role in providing comfort and emotional stability to their owners. These animals are not just pets; they are certified to provide specific assistance to individuals with mental health disorders. ESAs can help alleviate symptoms of anxiety, depression, PTSD, and other emotional conditions. They offer unconditional love, companionship, and a sense of security, which can greatly improve the overall well-being of their owners.
There are numerous benefits of having an emotional support animal. Firstly, the presence of an ESA can help reduce feelings of loneliness and isolation. Many individuals with mental health conditions often struggle with social interactions, but having a loyal companion by their side can provide a sense of belonging and comfort. ESAs can also help regulate emotions by providing a source of calmness and stability during times of distress.
Moreover, emotional support animals can help individuals cope with stress and anxiety. The simple act of petting or cuddling with an ESA has been proven to release endorphins, which are known as “feel-good” chemicals. This natural boost in mood can help reduce anxiety levels and promote relaxation. Additionally, the responsibility of taking care of an ESA can provide a sense of purpose and routine, which is particularly beneficial for individuals struggling with depression.
It is essential to understand the legal rights surrounding emotional support animals. In many countries, including the United States, ESAs are protected under the law. This means that individuals with valid ESA certifications can have their animals accompany them in housing that otherwise has a “no pets” policy. They are also allowed to travel on airplanes with their emotional support animals without having to pay additional fees.
However, it is important to note that emotional support animals are not the same as service animals. Service animals undergo extensive training to perform specific tasks for individuals with disabilities, while emotional support animals provide emotional comfort. Understanding the distinction between the two is crucial to ensure the appropriate rights and accommodations.
The message couldn’t have been clearer
it was like a strobeing neon sign…
or looped playback of an unwanted message
The sulfur fills your nostrils and you’re mesmerized by the dancing flame
Why did you foolishly believe in this?
why where so easily taken in by its lure?
why did you allow yourself to breath life into boyish fantasy?
The amber light severed the darkness for a moment as you took a drag
Shaking your head, you exhale…bathing in the realism of the moment
You step back into the shadows…..step back into the known
step back before you become a victim of the voracious nature of life
You thump the ashes from your cigar in the darkness ….safe and free
There is a silence in the room
No words spoken, emotions so thick one could smother
Fighting back the tears, as you look back at her face.
She’s sitting on the steps, glowing in the sun.
Your bag is packed, yet you search for a reason not to leave.
Standing the final stance before departure…knowing too well it is time
Feeling the tenderness of her touch
Followed by the warmth of her lips.
Exhaling in the moment, the next is unknown
Walking out the door, never turning around
Not wanting your tears to show.
The ride to post was longer today than any others
Your brothers and sisters in arms have the same upon their faces
Equipment and manifest checks … moments away from destiny
Chatter fills the room, but no one speaks of why we are here
As if you speak its name, you give it power.
To speak its name, the illusion would be over
We muster on the flight line, trying to stay strong
We look through the crowd, watching your brethren summoning the courage
Moments away from fighting an unknown cause
Fighting with undying zeal and without pause
The plane is loaded, and slumber takes over
Getting all we can get while we can
Waken by the plane’s descent, our nerves on fire
Knowing that the illusion is over and dues need to be paid
We flick the switch ….
Boom boom….boom boom ….boom boom
Can you hear it?
Boom boom…boom boom ….boom boom
War drums sound off
Boom boom…boom boom ….boom boom
Our soul screams!!!!
YEEEEAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!
Now we embrace our beast and let them out
Fighting relentlessly ….
Stained with essence ….
Innocence shattered ….
Desperately searching for the next thing that is keeping you away
Through bloodshot eyes, we see all the enemies have vanished
No one else to fight … no more orphans caused
At least no more today
We flick off the switch ….
Leaning in the doorway, standing there looking
Looking at the most breathtaking thing that these eyes have seen
In what seems to be a lifetime
I see you ….
Glowing in the sun
I woke up this morning fired up. Another glorious day to be above ground. I started this off like this …
I jammed this song before many missions
Here are this week’s questions about shopping habits:
1. When food shopping, do you prefer to shop online or in person? I do a great deal of online shopping for convenience, but I prefer to walk the aisles and see the things that aren’t on the website. Plus, you have an opportunity to examine your purchase before leaving the store. I can’t count the number of times I’ve purchased something online and be disappointed when it arrives. It’s almost like they have a magic camera when taking photos for the website.
2. Do you take/stick to a shopping list? I’ve always made a list in my head. I typically purchase only the things I intend to purchase. Online shopping makes the need for a list easier to stick to.
3. Do you shop around or are you store loyal for convenience? I’m pretty loyal if the service and they have the product I’m looking for. However, I believe in having a backup plan, so I often look around at several stores before settling down with a single store.
4. Roughly how long does it take you to do a weekly shop? It depends on what I need to purchase. Typically it takes me about two hours.
Here’s my response to Pensitivity101’s Share Your World
This week on her is a lovely tribute. It is in the memories of others that we truly achieve immortality. May we all become immortal.
Do you ever feel more excited about getting the package in the mail, rather than the item that’s in it? Yes, there have many times I received a package and wondered what goodies am I about to receive. I’ve been let down too many times, to be specific.
What is the difference between your ideal self and your real self? (i.e. what attribute or physical feature would allow you feel the ideal ‘you’?) I wish I saw myself as something else. I wonder who I would become? What would be the ideal version of myself? Would I be suave? Charismatic? Perhaps I would live on a mountain in an unknown region, communing with the birds. Wouldn’t it be cool to learn a bird language? In this ideal version of myself, would I still be a writer?
However, I’m not that fortunate. I am just a simple man living my life as best I can. I embrace my faults and learn from them. Some lessons are costly, and others not so much. Yet, no matter the cost, each is full of wisdom. I need the patience to listen. Who I am may not work for some, but it’s good enough for me. Everyone else is already taken. This includes any fantasy version of myself. I’m a writer, so I can make myself pretty sweet. However, The Madre has always urged me to use my powers for good. If I’m nothing else, I strived to be a good son.
If you found $2,000 on the ground and there were no witnesses, what would you do with it? I would turn it to the local authorities. Some folks are looking at this answer and saying, “Yeah, right, you would turn it in.” But I would. I’ve lost money before, and someone turned it in. I’m very thankful for that honest person. So why not pay it forward?
Are you ever morally obliged to take action? Under what circumstances? Yes, whenever I can assist people in need. As long as it doesn’t interfere with my responsibilities to my family. When this occurs, it usually affects how much I can assist. My code doesn’t allow me to say no.
What does it mean to be a kid at heart?
Sometimes, it’s hard for me to remember what it’s like to be a kid at heart. Lately, I’ve been reminiscing about childhood. I have had several random memories.
I remember pacing endlessly, wondering if my latest crush was into me. I enlisted help from my friends to discern my plight, but they weren’t any help. Then, a girl from the class appeared out of nowhere. She was known to accomplish this feat regularly. There was talk if she was some sort of fairy or some other mythical creature. Putting aside her unknown origins, she offered a probable solution to my crisis. There was a daisy in her hand.
She began plucking the pedals one by one, uttering, ” She loves me,” “She loves me not.” We waited as she continued plucking as if the fate of the world rested on the result. When she finished, I had a new love. However, this result was the farthest from the truth. I remember playing this game. It gives me a hardy laugh.
One of my friend’s mother asked me once if I was part squirrel. I didn’t know what she meant, but looking back, I can see why she asked that. I would scurry up a tree in a heartbeat, leaving her son looking up and complaining until he found the courage to climb up with me. We were kings, looking down at the world. We would pack sandwiches and comic books, staying there for hours.
I remember spending hours on various swing sets around the neighborhood. This photo reminds me of an old swing set where I used to sneak and swing. It was something sitting there gathering my thoughts about what mischief I was going to into next.
The bottom represents the playground swing I played with as a child. The swing I used to court my latest crush. The laughter, how I remember the laughter. It was almost like we didn’t know fear. We shared interests, fears, and passions. We never considered whether or not the information we shared would be used against us. It was friendships forged from innocence.
When I can, I think about those moments and smile. Because we used to swing and climb trees.
What are your favorite websites?
There are far too many quality websites to call one my favorite. However, there are a few I visit regularly. I understand this might be the time to publicly admit. [Clearing my throat] My name is Mangus, and I’m a bookworm and shopaholic. Because of this compulsion, I spend a considerable amount of time on Amazon. I just can’t help myself. I have one of those Kindle Fire things, so I buy books all the time. To make matters worse, I acquire most of my provisions from there as well. Not to mention office supplies, electronics, and ridiculous whatnot that one buys on a wimp.
Until recently, I spent a great of time on Goodreads. A social media site for bookworms. I admit the idea is exciting. However, I have purposely been weening myself from Goodreads in hopes of somehow curving my book buying. Then there’s Abe.com; where can you believe this madness; people post books for sale. There are first editions and the lot waiting for me to enter my credit card information. Thriftbooks.com has reasonably priced books and a points system so you can get some discounts. So not fair.
Wish me luck in my pursuit of curving my addictions. I’m running out of space for bookshelves and my Kindle is almost full.
I always enjoy discovering new ways of pushing myself as a writer. Every sentence is an opportunity to redefine my limits. Often, I find myself struggling with who I’m becoming in the wake of my existence. There was a time when I felt certain who I was and my purpose. Now, with age and health issues, I wonder…
What kind of man are you?
PROSE
The beginning of my psychosis … sighs!
When I was young, I approached life without fear
With hopes as bright as the sun
When it came to worries, I had none
I’d never thought I’d end up here
Sitting here remembering what I saw in the mirror
Realizing what I had become
All the things I had done
My soul and eyes fill with tears
At me, I look
Just one look
And all my dreams
Are scattered
My head hangs low
Despair has begun taking its toll
I have no place left to go
For it holding me here
At me, I look
Just one look
And all my hope
Is shattered
Thunderous dreams on whispering wings
That no one can hear
These pages are soaked from the tears I cry
I hope to survive this pain. I scribe
As I scream
AAAAAAAAAAA HHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!
At you, I look
Just one look
For I have lost
The thing that matters
Here, in the chambers of my madness, I am showered by my decadence. The weight of my arrogance bears heavily on my soul, dropping me to my knees, beaten and shallow.
The eyes of my damnation have opened. From its lips, a howl is released that cringes the wicked.
In a fleeting moment….
I believed someone wanted to hear what I had to say.
Believing I had something worthy of saying.
For a moment….
I believed my words could inspire and ignite,
Yet they are daunt and douse.
I believed my words could teleport you from drab and mundane,
to the majestic and climatic
For a moment….
I believed I was good enough to defend the faith, which gives us breath
I believed I was that breath, filling the lungs of the passionate.
For a moment…
I believed the faces of the slain would fade,
Yet I drift deeper into a sea of their weeping souls.
Believing I was strong enough to let go of the things that bind me.
Though I await sadness to draw life that remains….leaving me hollow.
Bound by lunacy’s chains, I am danging in its web, screaming…
Liberating my sanity as I stare into the fright and pain.
Knowing I can’t let go of the hope … of grace.
For my fortitude must be unwavering.
If I’m lucky, my courage will be limitless
Yet, I must be careful, for I hope for….
For it might destroy it all.
Yes, I must be careful …
For it might destroy me.
In the twilight of this revelation, I slump, weakened…
for I am dying.
From my lifeless lips, I speak Passion’s name
Breaking the chains, I rise untouched by the flames of Madness.
holding on to the dream that I’m powerful enough
Powerful enough to scribe in lines of the destined.
Wise enough to scribe the words that will bring us home.
Strong enough to wield the words that will bind our drifting souls.
Bringing us to a place we all belong, united and strong
A place where our words cast out the darkness that sometimes fills our hearts.
Yet, I must be careful about what I long for….
Careful for what I yearn for ….
I might get things I don’t want
Yet, I pray hear you my plea
Just before the dawn of this …
Epiphany of Madness
Here are this week’s questions (which are nothing to do with Halloween):
I’ve never done one of these before, but I enjoy them. I think it has something to do with the brevity of it. The power of less is more. So, true to fashion I will combine a few challenges. Let’s see if I get any of them right.
The picture is courtesy of the Melissa Fandango Flash Fiction Challenge
Love, devotion, sacrifice by any means
You have three magic genie wishes, what are you asking for?
Dealing with a Djinn is like bucking the tiger odds. The odds are in favor of the house. This is because we speak in generalities. we are specific about what we want or need. Sometimes, we actually think we know exactly what we need only to find out it isn’t what we needed at all.
If I remember my scripture, Solomon was the wisest man in the world and there wouldn’t be another as wise as him. If he couldn’t get it right, then I suppose we are good.
I don’t need three wishes. I just need one.
Share Your World – 16th October.
Here are this week’s questions:
Describe a family member.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this, not even a little bit. Somewhere along the way, the little bastard got to me. Maybe it was his eyes full of innocence that looked up at me as he gripped my finger when I met him. He stole his grandmother’s heart at the first coo. I wasn’t falling for that cute shit. He’s a male. He must be raised hard, tough, and ready. No pansies are allowed in my clan. No sir. No way.
However, from the start, I saw he going to be different. I saw something in him I wasn’t used to seeing. There was a kindness to him, not the kind that makes you soft. But the kind that makes people want to be around. The kind that’s the foundation of becoming a good man. My grandson is also a very thoughtful young man. I’m pretty sure he got these traits from his grandmother.
I have also noticed he has a bit of a mean streak, something he definitely got from my side of the family. However, I seldom see this side. All in all, he is a cool kid. You can’t tell him; he might think I’m getting soft.
I feel like writing today. There have been so many days where I didn’t feel it, but wrote anyway. I can’t explain or put my finger on the difference. I’m unsure if I need to or if it’s all that important. What’s important to me right now is that I’m feeling it. Today, I not going to fight it.
Perhaps, it’s because
I saw the Moon in a clear blue sky.
So close I could touch it.
It has magical powers, they say
I believe them.
Perhaps it’s because
I saw the clouds glow when they were touched by the Sun.
A bird chirped as it flew by
A stray cat rubbed against my leg
I had a meeting with a friend that didn’t suck
I don’t know why today feels this way, but strap in.
What is your favorite form of physical exercise?
There was a time when running was everything to me. I’ve literally have run hundreds if not thousands of miles in my life. It’s something about the struggle between your mind and body. The two of them trying to find synchronicity. The feeling is difficult to put into words.
Pushing past the pain, the burn in your lungs, the ache from your muscles, and the satisfaction once you have completed. Brings back memories. Depending on the weather, each run presents a difficult challenge. I always secretly loved running in the rain. Especially, a storm. I’d run straight into in an act of defiance. Knowing I should be inside, but no!
The battle between my will and Mother Nature had begun. Of course, I wasn’t going to win, but I would not be taken lightly. I would not cower inside like a good boy and wait. Yeah, that’s where was at, right there. Recalling it, brings back the emotions. My heart rate elevates, my breathing deepens, and my focus is on target.
I sometimes forget how I developed my love for running. How I built up my endurance, stamina, and intestinal fortitude. Oddly, it was from walking. I can’t to do the miles and rage war against the elements anymore by running. However, I can still go on a walk. I love it.
Let me explain why walking is so important to me. In earlier post, I babbled about a bionic kid wanting to a gymnast. It was attempt to be humorous, but missed the mark. Some of you might remember the story. For those who don’t remember or don’t have the foggiest idea what I’m about. Here is a link to the story
What I didn’t tell you about was after that fiasco I had to learn to walk again. I broke my hip in several places and lived in a body cast for a period of time. This marked the end of the adorable years. All my adorable chubbiness, which attracted women from the corners of the Earth just for the pleasure of pinching my cheek.
I never been a fan of cheek pinching, but it usually resulted in candy. So, I swallowed my disdain for the sake of candy. Once, I lost the chubbiness, the candy connection was over. Then, I met with healthy snacks, like apples, applesauce, and random raw vegetables from my grandmother garden. Of course, I suddenly wished I hadn’t broke my hip.
My journey of learning to walk again was challenging. I still don’t think I walk without a slight, but hitch in my step. It seemed I was going to be on crutches forever. I wasn’t before long, I was walking. Then I could run. Boy was I fast.
I walked everywhere. All across town, the different neighborhoods, the different stores, and all the different parks in town. I remember being told certain parks were only for the people who lived in the area. I paid that mess no attention. I kept walking.
Walking has always seem to be the activity where I can clear my mind. The activity where I can the peace that often escapes during the routines of the day. I can gauge myself while walking. Too much pain, tells me I’m not where I need to be physically. Or at least a good indication of my physical status.
Essays and stories have bloomed from my walks. My walks have also been the thread that has sworn together the story fragments that sometimes aimlessly linger in the corners of our minds. There not tucked too deep so we can forget, but they poke their heads out from time to time.
I close my eyes to the darkness
Inhaling the essence of you
Without you, I write nothing
Without you, I don’t know what to do
Living life amongst the shadows
Watching you depart, my heart just sank
Plunging deep into sadness
Imaging a world where you’re not there
Missing you…
Something I didn’t have a clue
Missing you …
How strange I didn’t have a clue
Writers come alive slowly
Writer’s heart is their home
They put their souls on paper
Each lines a heartbeat
Missing you….
How strange … I never knew
How much would you pay to go to the moon?
I look at this prompt with a certain measure of disbelief. Why would I pay anything to go to the moon? Let’s examine the question. Let me go at the possible advantages of going to the moon, let alone paying to go. From what I understand, the Moon is cold. I’ve been cold in my lifetime, and I don’t want to be cold. The winter season here on Earth is more than enough. I’ve spent winters in several different regions. I’m quite familiar with cold weather.
Now, how many science fiction stories have you read where anything good happens with living on the moon? I haven’t read any. If there are any that you know, please let me know. Here’s something interesting to consider. I’m a writer, so if I want to go to the Moon, all I have to do is write about it. Yep, all I have to do is sit in front of my laptop and devise a beautiful tale about a lunar adventure. Or I could pull out a stack of 28lbs paper and start writing.
So you see, there is no need to pay to go to the Moon when you are a writer. Pay to go to the Moon. Are you kidding me right now?
Share Your World 2nd October Response.
Here are this week’s questions:
1. When you were a child, did you have your friends round for tea even if it wasn’t your birthday? Were you invited to stay for tea at a friend’s house? I was raised in America, so the only we had was Sun Tea. Which consisted of placing Lipton tea bags in a large jar and sitting it on the porch. I forgot about sweet tea. We love our sweet tea and lemonade. The closest thing to what this question asked is my friends and I would scrouge change and go down to the filling station to buy RC Cola and a Moon Pie. We’d sit on the curb eating our pie and drinking our pop, like kings of the four blocks that comprised our neighborhood.
2. What was your first job in adult life? I joined the military right out of high school. There is nothing more to say about that.
3. Do you enjoy shopping (food, clothes, gifts etc)? I hate shopping for the most part. I mainly purchase books and electronics. Used bookstores are my happy place. I must remain calm when I find a treasure I have been looking for months. Weirdly, people stare at you like you’re a lunatic when you get all excited about a book find. As a child, they would shake their heads with looks of pity on their faces. I would overhear them saying, “Don’t stare! I told you about staring at God’s special people. That poor child.” For a while, I didn’t know they were talking about me. When I did discover it, I whooped a little louder.
4. What was the best bargain you ever got? I’m not sure if this is considered a bargain or not. Since the word bargain is a bit subjective. It really depends on the person and the item. I walked into a pawn shop once and saw a stack of LP’s on the shelf for sale. The stack was riddled with no name band in the last twenty years, but as I reached the bottom of the pile, I struck gold. I found an original pressing of Howlin Wolf’s London Sessions. Quickly, I took it to the counter to purchase. Turns out the owner of the store was an old friend from back when we both had hair, and our eyes hadn’t seen all the things we had. In a way, back when we were both innocent.
What’s something most people don’t know about you?
I had several different responses to this prompt. I actually made very detailed notes on something else. However, I was at my brother’s motorcycle shop. I took several photos of his projects. I can’t disclose any of the works in progress. However, there is one I’m sure he won’t mind.
Over the last decade, I’ve gone on about my desire of wanting to ride a motorcycle. We have talked extensively during that time about owning one. Once, I went so far as to discuss the design of a bike. My brother graciously entertained my thoughts. However, I know nothing about designing or building a bike. He could have taken the opportunity to berate me. He didn’t, but he did something else instead.
One day, he tells me he will build me a bike. Now, I did my best not to be all giddy and lose my shit. I don’t think I pulled it off. I thought he joking around, but I went around the shop and took pictures of my future bike.
Now, some may feel my baby is in rough shape. I assure you it’s in better shape than I am. Thanks to my brother’s I now have an opportunity to fulfill a lifelong dream. Riding on the open road with the wind in my face and all that. Yes, I know it sounds cheesy, but don’t judge me!
Here is my response to the Share Your World challenge
Along the coast of the isle, I await
I’m awaiting the one who is heard but rarely seen.
His guidance, his vision, is what soothes me.
Thundering huffs of his steed surround me
Through the mist, I catch a glimpse of his armor
My heart pounds in anticipation of asking the question
Opening my eyes, I am within the halls of my study
An empty room with barren shelves, once full
No remnants of its former purpose
Except…
An inkwell on my table
Whispering …
You’re the one I belong to…
My soul began to shiver
As it transformed into a mesmerizing beauty
With enchanting eyes that spoke to me.
I could barely take it
My head was spinning around and around
I didn’t know what to do
As those eyes kept asking me
Can you be the writer?
That writes too silly to the profound
Are you that writer?
It is just a question to answer.
The inkwell on my table…
Was the caressing wind
Of the blossoming trees
Everything between hell and heaven
Now I’m back along the coast
In the presence of the rider
As I looked at the face behind the visor
I realized the answers
I am the writer of the silly, perhaps the profound
Yes, I have my answer
I am the Muse
Yesterday, when I was working on the post, Bedlam & Mayhem, I had no idea what was going on in the world at the time. I met a woman once who talked about the world being connected by what she called vibrations. At the time, I was too young to understand what she meant by the statement.
I’m unsure if I understand the statement now. I must admit when I encounter things that fall in this category. Let me be clear: I’m referring to when you feel strongly about a subject and write something about it. Whether or not you publish your thoughts about the subject. The important thing is writing about a subject that’s happening, and you have no prior knowledge of its occurrence as you write. This reminds me of the title of Norman Mailer’s book on writing called “The Spooky Art.”
Honestly, this has happened more than I care to admit. I don’t have any special powers or anything like that. find it peculiar you can write about something so moving, and it’s actually happening. It’s almost like every story is waiting to be heard. If you allow me to be a little more hippie-dippy for a moment, I remember hearing once that magic still exists, but we as people forgot about it and forgotten how to tap into it.
After some research, I discovered there had been a mass shooting in over seven major cities over the past weekend. I don’t have the words. Perhaps we can start with spooky. For both the events and the writing about them.
What major historical events do you remember?
The longer you live the more things you remember. There are many historical events that stand out in my mind. It’s hard to choose which ones to talk about. So, I’ve decided to discuss a few that impacted my life. These events made me stop and think about the world around me. Sometimes, I find myself a little taken back by the level of carnage some members of humanity are willing to unleash.
I wish this quote by Joseph Conrad had no relevance in today’s society. Sadly, it is just as relevant today as when he wrote it.
On June 12, 2016, a horrific event in Orlando, Florida, shook the nation. Omar Mateen, a 29-year-old man, carried out a mass shooting at Pulse, a gay nightclub, resulting in the loss of 49 innocent lives and leaving 53 others wounded. The impact of this senseless act of violence reverberated far beyond the walls of the nightclub, leaving a deep scar on the LGBTQ+ community and the nation as a whole.
The Orlando nightclub shooting was not just an act of violence but a targeted attack on a specific community. It attacked love, acceptance, and the freedom to be oneself. The LGBTQ+ community has long fought for equality and acceptance, and this tragic event served as a painful reminder that there are still those who seek to harm and oppress individuals based on their sexual orientation.
In the aftermath of the shooting, the nation came together to mourn the loss of innocent lives and support the LGBTQ+ community. Vigils were held across the country, with people from all walks of life coming together to stand in solidarity. It was a powerful display of unity and a testament to the resilience and strength of the human spirit.
As time passes, we mustn’t forget the Orlando nightclub shooting. We must remember the lives that were lost and the pain that was inflicted on the LGBTQ+ community. We honor the victims and their families by remembering and keeping their memories alive. Through this place, we can continue to fight for a world where everyone is accepted and loved for who they are.
Furthermore, the Orlando nightclub shooting serves as a reminder of the work that still needs to be done to prevent such acts of violence in the future. It highlights the need for better gun control measures to prevent individuals with harmful intentions from obtaining weapons. It also emphasizes creating a society that celebrates diversity and fosters acceptance.
I remember being outraged by this event. I wondered what was wrong with the young man. What was happening underneath the rhetoric? Of course, I will never know the answer to this question. However, this event didn’t hit me in the gut until a close friend shared her thoughts. Then finally exclaimed:
“They’re killing us, Mangus. They’re killing us!”
I had no idea what to do or how, if anything, I could comfort her. I still don’t. The event was senseless and cruel.
On January 6, 2021, some Americans lost their damn minds and stormed the Capital Building in Washington, D.C. This event should have never happened, but it did. Nearly three years later, I still question the point of the entire affair. I can remember staring at my boss like she had lost her mind. I heard her words, but they didn’t make sense.
The barrage of questions continued for a few minutes until I accepted that our Capital was under siege. I was furious. I felt helpless. I couldn’t do anything to right this wrong. It was no longer my job.
To attempt to overturn a presidential election by force is wrong on so many levels. I’m doing my best here to go into full mode.
Deep breaths…Mangus: Deep breaths … filth and foul and filth foul …deep breaths, use your words.
Civil disobedience is one of the things that made America what it is. However, in my opinion, the actions of that day went against the spirit of the country. That day was not our finest hour. We are better than this madness. It would behoove us to remember that.
Here is a link to the timeline of that day’s events provided by the BBC.
In the aftermath of the Capitol riots, the nation grappled with the deep divisions that had been exposed. It was a stark reminder that democracy is fragile and requires constant vigilance. But in the face of this unprecedented attack on our democracy, there were glimmers of hope and unity.
Leaders from both sides of the political spectrum condemned the violence and called for accountability. The swift impeachment of the then-president and the subsequent investigations into the events of that day signaled a commitment to upholding the rule of law.
Furthermore, the resilience of the Capitol staff and law enforcement officers who worked tirelessly to protect the building and its occupants should be recognized and commended. Their bravery in the face of danger serves as a reminder of the dedication and sacrifice that public servants make every day.
The events of January 6, 2021, serve as a wake-up call for the nation. They highlight the urgent need to address the underlying issues that led to such a violent insurrection. We must examine the root causes of the division and discontent that fueled this attack on our democracy.
Moreover, the Capitol riots underscore the importance of education and critical thinking in a democratic society. We must invest in civic education and media literacy to ensure that citizens have the tools to discern fact from fiction and to engage in constructive dialogue rather than resorting to violence.
As we reflect on the Capitol riots of 2021, let us remember the lessons learned and work towards healing the wounds that continue to divide our nation. Only through unity, understanding, and a commitment to the principles of democracy can we build a brighter future for all Americans.
On October 1, 2017, the world was shocked as a horrific event unfolded in Las Vegas, Nevada. A lone gunman, identified as Stephen Paddock, opened fire on a crowd of concertgoers attending the Route 91 Harvest music festival. The attack resulted in the loss of 58 innocent lives and hundreds injured. This tragic incident is one of the deadliest mass shootings in modern American history.
The impact of the 2017 Las Vegas shooting was felt by the victims, their families, and the entire nation. As news of the attack spread, a wave of grief and disbelief washed over the country. The concert, meant to celebrate music and unity, quickly turned into chaos and terror. Survivors and witnesses were left traumatized, forever scarred by that fateful night’s horrifying images and sounds.
The Las Vegas shooting also reignited the ongoing debate around gun control in the United States. The ease with which the shooter acquired a vast arsenal of weapons and ammunition raised severe concerns about the accessibility and regulation of firearms. Many called for stricter gun laws and comprehensive background checks to prevent similar tragedies from occurring in the future.
In the face of such tragedy, the Las Vegas community displayed remarkable resilience and strength. Strangers came together to help the wounded, offering comfort and support amidst the chaos. First responders and medical professionals worked tirelessly to save lives and provide essential care to the injured. The city of Las Vegas rallied around the victims and their families, offering financial assistance, counseling services, and a collective shoulder to lean on.
The aftermath of the Las Vegas shooting also highlighted the importance of mental health support. Survivors and witnesses experienced profound emotional trauma that required professional intervention and support. Mental health organizations and counselors played a crucial role in helping individuals cope with the aftermath of the tragedy, emphasizing the need to prioritize mental well-being in the wake of such devastating events.
The 2017 Las Vegas shooting was an immense tragedy that deeply impacted the nation. The loss of innocent lives and the profound effects on the survivors and their families cannot be overstated. It serves as a somber reminder of the urgent need for stricter gun control measures and comprehensive mental health support in our society. This horrific event should compel us to reflect on the lives that were tragically cut short and the resilience displayed by the Las Vegas community. Moving forward, we must strive for a future where such senseless acts of violence are prevented, and where every individual feels safe and secure. Achieving this requires collective action and a steadfast commitment to change, as we honor the victims and work towards building a more peaceful and compassionate society.
The Capitol riots of 2021 will forever be etched into the annals of American history as a dark moment. It was a stark reminder of the fragility of democracy and the crucial importance of safeguarding our institutions. This shocking event shook the nation to its core, but it also sparked hope for healing and growth. As a nation, we can move forward by addressing the underlying issues that led to this unrest, fostering unity among our citizens, and prioritizing education to prevent such incidents from happening again. It is through these actions that we can strive for a better and more inclusive future, where the principles of democracy are upheld and respected.
The Orlando nightclub shooting was a tragic event that deeply impacted not only the LGBTQ+ community but also the entire nation. It served as a stark reminder of the ongoing presence of hatred and discrimination in our society. However, amidst the darkness, it also brought people together, showcasing the power of unity and love. As we remember the victims and their families, it is crucial that we continue to work towards creating a world where everyone feels safe, accepted, and valued. This means actively combating prejudice, fostering inclusivity, and promoting understanding. By doing so, we can honor the memory of those affected by this tragedy and strive for a society where diversity is celebrated and bigotry has no place.
What’s the biggest risk you’d like to take — but haven’t been able to?
It’s interesting how something just pops up. As if the universe has something to tell you.
“Psst, come here, buddy. I won’t bite.”
In such cases, the universe represents that crush you never dared to speak to more than a few seconds at a time. For some reason, you believed talking to them would ruin the perfect relationship you had developed in your mind. In your mind, her voice caressed your inner ear, her smile melted away any doubt, and you weren’t an awkward guy who would write his thoughts in a notebook.
Then, sometime in the distant future, time folds back on itself because that’s what it always does. It comes around, so you face the moment you avoided all those years ago. It comes whether you are ready for it or not. Most likely not, but that’s the enchantment of time isn’t. You learned some time back not to question the universe because it will do whatever it wants. So it goes …
This time, in the grind of time, I decided to revitalize the blog I started over a decade ago. I did so without any faith in my writing. Truthfully, I didn’t have any faith in myself. Eight months in today, my doubt has begun to fade. Yet, I ask myself whether or not my doubt is over? Despite this, every night right before bed, I rant by the light of an LED lamp.
I don’t rant for fame or glory; I write for sanity. I expose my scars and whisper my secrets. Once, I held them close to my heart. Like that was the move to make. As if sanity resided neath the scars because I could trust myself and no one else. No one would understand my demons; I didn’t understand them myself. This is what I told myself. It was belief, nay, my conviction. This is how depression is; this is how it pulls you in.
I thought I could be a conduit for someone else pain, grief, and anguish. In reality, I’m confessing my sins of war. The war within myself. My biggest risk is releasing the insomniac rants to the public. Yet, I have been doing it, you say? I have a few short story collections and a few novels I’ve been holding back. I hear the senior editor’s voice in my head, “What are you waiting on?”
Well, darling, baby steps!
I’m Mangus Khan
and these are my memoirs
Memoirs of Madness
Insomnia is back. It was harder than usual this time as if she had something to prove. Like I had been two-timing her that slut Slumber, her word, not mine. The truth is Slumber has been good as of late. Her tender caresses lulled me into a much needed state. My body has been enduring a special kind of hell brought on by my devotion to Insomnia. In the wee hours of the morning, I lay there staring at the ceiling as if some cosmic truth would be revealed at any moment. The answer to an unasked existential question would materialize from the shadows. My notebook lay open at my desk. My Parker lay next to it.
“Psst…Psst.” I heard the Parker whisper.
I refused to surrender to temptation. I stayed strong. I am committed to the cause of what I don’t know. I’m so tired I don’t care.
Dawn’s arrived; her light caressed my body and whispered my name, “Mangus! Mangus!” Each time, a little louder in her honey voice. I raise my head, but Slumber pulls me back. I felt her warm breath across my ear, and then I felt a flick of her tongue on my ear lobe. I resist and sit on the edge of the bed. I look back at her. Her gaze is majestic, her touch serene.
“Go, I’ll be here when you get back,” she whispered.
I yawn and head out the door.
I never thought I had what it takes to be a father. I felt I wasn’t caring enough. You know, those guys on television and movies make it so easy. They always knew exactly what to say at the proper moment. I’m not those guys. Constantly, I’m saying the wrong things all the time. Damn, an appropriate moment. If there is saying the wrong thing I’m good at, it is sticking my foot in my mouth. Shell-toe Adidas tastes decent, but I prefer Chuck’s. The more worn, the better.
So, I bet you are wondering if I’m a complete screw-up at being a father; how could it be the thing I’m the most proud of. It’s simple, I had to bust my ass to earn the title. I’ve put more energy into being a father than anything else. So, any accomplishments I’ve made were hard fought ones. So this makes their reward sweeter. However, I can’t rest on the fruits of my labor. Fatherhood continues to be challenging well into their adulthood. Their problems are bigger for some reason. What happened to the days of hair disasters, outfit malfunctions, and broken hearts.
I wish I had been around more for them. My occupation prevented the deep connections fathers sometimes have with their children. There are so many I couldn’t discuss with my family. So, I was an idiot and didn’t talk at all. That was a definite moment of brilliance (eye-roll). So, I provided them useless facts they couldn’t apply to most things due to the fact they didn’t live in the kind of world where knowledge of this sort was required. I ensured they didn’t have to deal with the madness I had as a child.
While raising my children, I suffered from PTSD. I thought I was tough enough to deal with the condition alone. Yeah, I was that jackass. Despite this, I’ve maintained a relationship with the children and the grandchildren. With the missed bedtime stories, Christmases, birthdays, and all the other things I missed I was trying to make the world better for them. I’m a lucky and blessed S.O.B., my sacrifices could have cost me the very thing I was trying to keep safe.
A page I’m developing for the blog will contain a series of articles covering various subjects not dealing with the current subjects on the blog.
That’s all I have right now. Of course, I have several unnamed projects, but I have learned recently I need to prioritize my project to ensure completion.
As always,
Today, I realized I don’t have the mindset to have a lazy day and relax. I grew up believing you worked hard throughout the week and did chores around the house on the weekends. Saturday was the primary day of work. Sunday, I finished things up and prepared for the upcoming week. This logic has been the way, and I find no fault in its structure.
It’s strange how life can change your perspective on things whether you like it or not. I’ve mentioned my recent illness, which has caused me to change my lifestyle. Well, I am attempting to change it. Old habits are hard to break. I require much more rest than usual. I’m napping frequently and not getting a damn thing done. WTF, I appear to be getting soft. I can’t be having that. However, I must be honest with myself.
Honestly, I view my lack of progress in my chores around the house as unproductive, but in reality, getting a proper rest is very productive. I just need to be patient with myself.
It’s been a long week; I wasn’t sure I would make it. Work wasn’t particularly stressful, but I struggled mentally to get through it. I had a photoshoot yesterday, and I’d forgotten how physically taxing photoshoots can be. It was an open area shoot of a fantastic community event. I felt alive until the end of the day. My shoulders ached, and my legs felt like rubber. I fell asleep trying to process the photos from the shoot.
Despite the struggle, I got some beautiful shots I wish I could share but can’t. I didn’t have the opportunity to shoot any artistic shots. I was too busy, and I still haven’t regained all the strength from my recent illness. So today, I’m worn out. However, it’s through strife that we gain strength of character. Also, each day is a blessing and not a curse. Stay strong and keep fighting.
What do you enjoy most about writing?
I can’t remember why I started this. I can’t see where it was supposed to go. I know there was reason, a pretty good I’m sure. I probably crafted some clever dialogue to explain my actions if someone were to ask. No one did. I must remember I didn’t start writing to post on a blog. Hell, I didn’t start writing to be read. I wrote as a means to understand the stirring voices in my head.
Yes, I understand how that sounds. I concede you might have gone mental. I assure you I haven’t. I’m a writer who is attempting to write honestly about a topic. You guys would sense me being full of crap in a heartbeat. Throughout the years, I tried to force the things I wanted to write. I fell pray to the …
“Hey, this seems interesting.” or
“I got a great response to this piece; let’s write more about this, you think?” Or
“This is my signature piece.”
Yeah, limiting myself, like it is the thing to do. I didn’t have to worry about being put in a box or labeled. I did it myself. Constantly, I waged war against myself about the things that ended up on the page. Instead of WRITING SHIT LIKE YOU MEAN IT! I wrote these quaint pieces trying to find the formula that works.
“Sometimes in writing we stumble into a story …other times we trip and fall over what we intended to write.
Mangus Khan – 2015
I truly enjoy the ability to create something out of nothing. Well, not really nothing, but more precisely, use everything to create a believable story. I’ve used a portion of overheard conversations, witnessed events, or conjured a scene from the splinters of my mind. Whichever the source, the joy is finding a way to string them together into something meaningful… I hope.
I’ve lectured about writers being time travelers of a sort. No one ever gets where I’m coming from when I make this statement. My point is simple, actually. We have the power to rewrite history to suit ourselves. As long as we make the story compelling. When we are making up stuff, it doesn’t have to necessarily be believable. Some of the most ridiculous stories are compelling. We laugh out loud or shake our heads as we finish the story.
I used to worry about what the reader would think about what I had to say. This is important to a degree. I used to worry about so much I would actually get stuck and stop writing. Or even worse, the idea would never see the page. I’ve told my writing team hundreds of ideas but never written. It was as if I whispered into the wind, hoping another writer in an unknown destination or time would hear it and write it down.
All this was before I began to believe in myself and the writing process. I stop trying to force my will onto the subject matter. I learned to let go and trip and fall into it.
Most importantly, I’ve learned to enjoy the entire process. For example, this very post I started writing it back in August. Of course, I had a lot to say about what I enjoy about writing. Oh yeah, let me tell you all about that about it. Let’s not. I’m good. Aren’t you?
This blog wasn’t supposed to be what it has become. I was ready to quit before I wrote the first post. However, I’ve kept going; believe me, this year has been incredible. I couldn’t imagine the success I’ve had here. You guys have taught me so much about writing as well as assisted me in realizing things about myself. Then, I wonder about stuff like this …
Will it matter how many doors opened, portals gazed through, or notebooks filled? Will we truly say all that we hear in the silence? Only you can answer these questions in the words you write. I wish words of kindness and love would replace the hatred lurking in the soul of man. I wish the tears that drench these pages were of joy instead of sorrow. I hope for a better tomorrow.
I wish what we find in our darkest hour, we embrace its truth. We have hid too long from who we really are. I wish that truth flourishes, providing the wisdom necessary as we bare our souls. It will be liberating to walk from behind the veil of another person’s ideal. I wish this unveiled soul speaks with passion and dignity, knowing by doing so, the words will be spoken with honor. I wish we could free ourselves and honestly speak soulfully.
“The essential thing is that you write about something you really care about. Identifying that something, however, is not always easy. Are surrounded by received opinion, a constant barrage of information, drama, ideas, and judgements offended us live, printed, and electronic. It is so much easier to know what we ought to think and feel then what we actually do. “
Janet Burroway Writing Fiction
With that being said, I often find it difficult to find subjects I would like to write about. It’s challenging to make interesting content. However, I feel it’s critical to be honest with yourself as a writer. My favorite portion of writing is creating phrases. When I’m editing, I just want it to be over. However, I realize a properly edited piece can turn good writing into excellent writing. I didn’t always feel this way. Just ask my senior editor. I’m sure there were several moments when if she could have got her hands on me. It would not have been good for me. Sometimes writing is like …
The night whispers have faded as dawn stretches with one eye open and the other squinted. Caffeine burns through my bloodstream as I roll myself a cigarette in the early morning strain. Lately, my words don’t seem like mine; they are flat and lifeless as if my pen has lost its courage. The words tease as they linger on the tip of my tongue. Though submerged in this state of bewilderment, my face distorts into a smile. I realize that I have been preparing for this conversation for years. It became clear the difficulties never change. One minute, you stare blankly into the nothingness, and the next, you find yourself face down on your desk with slobber-drenched hair and coffee-stained lips. The result is a story about you, which is nothing more than a reflection about me, pulsing happily on a word processor.
While trying to remember, every word, sentence, or paragraph is another attempt for writers to learn to fly.
The other day, I was talking to a close friend, telling her I can’t expect many views because I’m not selling a product. Therefore, the SEO strategy should be different. She looked at me momentarily as if waiting for me to say something.
“The product you are selling is you. So, in this case, you have cornered the market; you are unique and exclusive.”
Ain’t that some shit!
I look at this question and laugh. I know it isn’t intended to be funny, but it is. I don’t have a clue how to answer this question. Perhaps if I approach it in reverse. I know what makes a bad neighbor. I’ve had a few of those over the years. The kind of people who complain about the length of your grass. The polite suggestion of adding a coat of paint to your house.
However, I have neighbors bring baked goods to welcome my family to the neighborhood. I never trusted the sentiment. Perhaps, it’s my inability to understand the merits of strangers knocking on my door with a casserole. If you want to win me over, let’s start with a chocolate cake, a minimum of two layers. My wife asked once, “What kind of cave were you brought up in?” I looked at her before speaking. This time, I actually considered my response.
“It was quite nice. Quiet, low light, and no neighbors bringing random casserole. Honey, you know I don’t do random casserole.”
She looked at me momentarily with a smile slowly creeping to the corners of her face. She did her best not to laugh. There was even a flash of annoyance, but it didn’t hold. She walked away, muttering something about, “How crazy I can I be?”
I replied, “Challenge accepted.”
As Always
What could you try for the first time?
As a kid, I spent hours watching a TV show, “The Man from Atlantis,” starring Patrick Duffy. This show was before he rose to fame as “Bobby Ewing” on the iconic drama Dallas. It was a horrible television show I barely remember. However, do remember spending time at the local swimming pool trying to mimic his swimming style. Now, I didn’t have much success in this endeavor. A fact I chalked up to me not being an Atlantean. I went to my mother and explained my plight. “Boy, you are crazy,” she replied as she shrugged on her coat, heading off to work.
Here’s a clip from the Man from Atlantis
I decided to give my explanation another try with my grandmother. She didn’t even respond. Well, not in a way I was accustomed. She sat me down for what would become one of the few shows we enjoyed together. I didn’t understand most of the show, but I thought it was cool. Swimming around underwater and whatnot is precisely what I will do when I grow up. Who needs superpowers or any of that stuff. Deep sea exploration was where it was at.
Here is Mimi’s show we shared together.
I hadn’t thought about any of this stuff for years. I’m almost ashamed when I think about how I jumped from career to career. But that’s what we do when we are young. We try out different opportunities before settling on a career that will last us a lifetime. Provide us fulfillment and joy. A career that, when we retire, we know our efforts made a difference.
Wow! I’m sorry, I have no idea where that bullshit came from. I guess since I was feeling nostalgic, it opened a portal to memories of people feeding me that line as they clearly wanted to be someplace else. I didn’t have the snark to call it on them then. It’s okay if I ever finish the time machine in my basement. I have enough snark now to handle the situation appropriately. Yep, I wanted to be a deep sea explorer and have all the cool toys. I would try it now if I was healthy enough and had a shot. Why the hell not!
As always,
Sometimes, the day just sucks. That’s how it is. No amount of positive affirmations can wipe away the stench of the day. Politics instead of actually doing something that matters. We can’t actually help some one. We play the role of helping and wait for the smiles of gratitude for your faux assistance. You drown in a vat of your own contempt.
A woman walking the halls we like she owns the place. Not because she is being rude or commanding, but because we are willing to give here whatever she needs. You don’t have an option, its just the right thing to do. I watch the plastic people trip over themselves and I continue watching, wondering …What I have to do?
I’ve always felt that people who do things as a matter of principle are full of crap. Typically, I’ve found they will remain steadfast with whatever the principal absence of any logical evidence. I don’t think they mean to do this intentionally, at least not right off. Sometimes, I feel they get caught up in the need to be right. Perhaps it is the fear of being wrong. Whichever the case, I find the result illogical to the point of insanity at times.
Most of us live by a set of rules, standards, or codes established based on a series of events that have occurred in our lifetime. Everyone has different standards because we process things differently. The crazy thing is that the standards we set change over time. Some things no longer have the Importance they once had. In these circumstances, we sometimes have difficulty accepting the changes. Honestly, accepting the changes is a demon most people face in various situations. Nobody is expecting you to admit this, not at all. Because denial is our next favorite thing.
Some common principles that people live by include:
These are only a few examples of the types of principles we use to define ourselves. I use a combination of some of these principles in varying degrees. I think it is crucial for me to do my best to be true to the person I strive to be.
What’s your #1 priority tomorrow?
Sometimes, it’s difficult to decide what things have the greatest priority. Everyone has so many things going on in their lives the only thing we can seem to do is breathe. Sometimes, we can only take quick and shallow breaths. Despite my daily tasks, my primary priority must always be doing all it takes to make a difference. I concede this priority is challenging, and perhaps I should choose a smaller task. One easier to complete, but this isn’t how I roll. It never has been.
When I wrote full-time, my writing team constantly accused me of procrastinating. We created several blogs, writing workshops, and countless other writing-related things during this time. Due to this, I wondered why they would say such a thing. I admit I might have been a little wounded. Just a tad. Then, one day, my senior editor had a conversation with me. If I’m being honest, it was more scolding. I felt like a child in the corner, sucking my thumb. Ready to blurt out, “I’m sorry, and I will never do it again,” at the proper moment. You know, timing is everything when it comes to apologies.
It wasn’t about everything we had accomplished; it was a single question about one thing. I hadn’t done. She wanted to know why I hadn’t finished my novels. She had every right to question me; I was writing a novel when we met. I couldn’t answer her then, nor can I answer her now. Worst of all, I have no answers for myself. Oh, I’ve several excuses for not finishing. However, none of them had any iron. It was like there were empty promises we tell ourselves in the moments of doubt. Despite this, since my reemergence, I have continued to write. My progress has been slow, as each sentence brings me closer to finding my way.
Recently, she expressed her delight in my bringing new light to some old stories in the archives. So, she hasn’t been giving me a hard time lately. I’m incredibly grateful to my imagination and Ursula, my muse, for assisting. She can be a pain in the ass when she doesn’t get her words. It’s a whole story by itself. I don’t have a reason why I have finished writing my novels, but I’m writing again. Right now, that must be enough. What I do know, it feels good to be writing again. I feel stronger than I have in some time.
Some of my close friends may say I’ve never grown up. It’s almost like I’m clowning around all the time. Then, a group of my closest friends entertain the thought I was born old. A small faction questions whether or not I was born fully grown. I must admit there is a lack of any photographic evidence proving my suspected childhood.
I contend I have an old soul. Yes, let’s go with that phrase. I fondly remember several elders in my childhood using it, referring to me. With this, I conclude that I must have routinely conducted myself well beyond my years. As such, I can’t put together a confirmed time when I first felt like a grown-up. I say it wasn’t the time I kissed a girl or anything. In fact, I don’t even consider when I first entered the military as an adult. I certainly do adult things, but whether I was a grown-up, nah!
However, I was in the military when the haunting moment of adulthood crept into my psyche. Something about facing your mortality tends to snap the child right out of you. It wasn’t the first time, but several events happening in 12 months did the trick. So, there I was, living in another part of the world, trying my best not to take anything seriously. Then, BOOM! It happened I was a grown-up.
As always,
The leaves on the trees rustled as the squirrels playfully chased each other limb to limb. In the forest, there was a clearing. A woman reading from a book sat in this clearing next to some fallen branches. The woman dressed in a habit, and the book was small in size but limitless in wisdom and Grace. These two things served as a beacon rescuing her from herself. She was on a path to Perdition’s Cathedral because she had lost hope. It was the fallen oak branch to her right that she first saw him. He was lost in the confines of the world painted inside bounded papyrus. He sat there so serenely as he brushed his from his face. She instantly knew that she loved him.
It seemed like one of those fairy tale moments you read about or see at a picture show. A moment when it’s clear you could love someone for an eternity and be the better for it. Grace smiled as she remembered plopping down on the branch beside him. She was so nervous but summoned the courage to ask his name. From the look in his eyes, they were the deepest brown; Grace could tell that he felt the same way. She remembered being overwhelmed and delighted like nothing before. They talked until the settling of the sun. Together, they walked hand in hand in silence, taking in sunset wonders from the edge of the ridge.
Exhaling in contentment, they parted ways to return home. Over the next several months, they continued their talks. They took turns reading from the book and discussing what each passage meant. After several months, they expressed their silent feelings for one another. It was the heavens danced in praise. The birds sang the sweetest ballad, and the sun brightened. It became clear to them that destiny had spoken. It became that they were to be together forever.
One day, the gloomiest it had been since they met. Her soul mate sat on a log, clearly troubled. He broke the news to her that he was to leave her. Her heart sank into a fathomless abyss. He explained he had to fight for truth, justice, and freedom. These were necessary for love to be the strongest in the world. None of this eased the pain of her wounded heart. None of this comforted her tormented soul. They kissed and hugged each other tight. They never wanted to let go of each other. Watching him walk away that day was like watching her soul walk away.
Grace had no idea she would never see him again after that day. At least, she had no idea she’d ever admit openly. It is something about when you are about to lose someone you truly love. You just know it. Nothing can truly explain this except the one who walked this path. They are the people who have stood there waiting for a glance to quiet their screaming fears. They stand praying for just one more chance to see them. Unfortunately, it is a chance that sometimes never comes.
Now, the woman has devoted her life to the service of the Father. Now, she has faith in something more substantial than her pain. Each day is different than the last. Each moment, she learns to ease her pain through his Grace. Somehow, through the misery, the deceit, and the pain, she looks for the good in the world. She must pray for guidance to help the less fortunate. Each day, in each moment of prayer, she hopes through corridors of pain that she can help another on the path to Perdition’s Cathedral.
The wooden rocking chair creaks against the porch in perfect time with the living clock on the wall: Tick, tick, tick. Carol Oxford sat on her porch, looking at the sky, lost in her thoughts about what she had seen in her lifetime. The memories of everything she had lived through. It had been such a wonderful life long from being over if she had anything to say about it.
In seven years, just seven years, she would have witnessed a century come and go. Seven years go so quickly, but so many things could happen. In the past seven years, she had buried over thirty of her friends and loved ones. And now, Roger? She had built her entire world with Roger. He called home to the Father. A smile came across her face as she wondered why the Father didn’t let him get those orchids planted this year. He would have loved to get the orchids before he left. His shovel and pail still sat where he left them as if she was waiting to return and finish the planting.
Sassy still runs out every morning to see if he returned. Then, she comes to the porch and sits on the step as if waiting for him to leave the barn. The woman understands her dog’s action because she still makes the coffee at dawn and pours two cups. As she drinks her coffee, she often wonders why the Father left her here. Why didn’t he take her at the same time or shortly after? Then she would smile as she remembered what her husband would say about that,
“Honey, there are things certain in life, Death and change. You may not like the change, but you can’t control it. No more than you are in control of the life’s ticking clock. So Honey, the best thing to do is be the best person you can, as long as you can.”
Manu Jenkins and Maury Lawrance faced off back in the 1950s. This face-off changed how things were at The Paradise drive-in. Manu Jenkins, “Jinxy” people called him, and Maury weren’t gang members, just guys who couldn’t back down. Only to find themselves in a situation that lasted a lifetime. This face-off leads to the development of the neutral zone. The neutral zone is no gang activity at the drive-in. Anyone caught fighting at the Paradise was banned for life. That was the law of the land for as long as anyone could remember.
According to Jinxy, “The Paradise” was the only place in town where you could walk around without anyone beating you senseless. Old Lonnie Lawrence, Maury’s father, had everything: swings, slides, cotton candy, and make-out spots. Jinxy nudged me with his elbow, smiling. “That’s where I met my sweet Pearl.” He said, staring off as if trapped inside a memory. Then, finally, he leaned back and smiled. I wondered if he was watching the movie from that night. Praline Madsen “Pearl” was his wife of forty years before going home to glory. Jinxy didn’t make it to the following fall. Jinxy and Pearl, PaPa and Nanna, seemed to me to be a love story, exactly like one that played at “The Paradise.”
Forty years later, My little brother, Trey, wanted to see a double feature playing there this weekend. Bruce Lee’s Chinese Connection and The Game of Death. I was 17, and hanging out with your 12-year-old little brother when you were supposed to be chasing tail wasn’t ideal, but I loved Bruce Lee just as much as he did. To get to the “Paradise,” we had to cross enemy territory. The Paradise may have been the neutral zone, but the surrounding neighborhood wasn’t. I knew the 6th Ave boys owed me a few beatings for jumping a couple of them when they got caught in my neighborhood. Trey didn’t know anything about my part in the beating, but he had witnessed a few as they happened.
“Moe?”
“Yeah, Trey.”
“Why are they beating that man? What did he do?”
“Nothing, Trey … Just in the wrong place; wrong time…you know?”
“No, I don’t….make them stop, Moe!”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“It’s the world we know.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
What’s a topic or issue about which you’ve changed your mind?
It isn’t easy to change a person’s mind once it’s been set. It’s a matter of principle, I suppose. Some may call it stubbornness. These words are thrown about when we have questions like these. I was brought to believe I mustn’t be afraid of anything. There is no way you should be scared. Especially if you’re a man. Men must be fearless. We are celebrated for bravery and courage. As a man, we know there will be times when we may experience fear, but we mustn’t allow it to consume us.
Throughout my life, I witnessed several men plunge into danger for the sake of the appearance of bravery and courage. These situations diminish with age. Yet, what I come to discuss today isn’t the outward expression of bravery and courage, but I want to talk about when we need to internalize those traits to battle the most brutal enemy we will ever face: ourselves.
As a man of a certain age, we were taught to be tough. For me, this meant I swallowed my emotions. I mustn’t express any feeling that wasn’t acceptable. I did this rather well. At least, I believed this until the things I buried began to rear their ugly heads. I’ve made several posts where I mentioned battling demons or my monster. It’s easy to believe I have something inside of me that I can fight and possibly defeat one day. The tricky thing is to admit these demons and monsters are a part of me. It’s even harder to admit I’m a part of them.
In the aftermath of the unintended consequences of my errors in judgment. I realize and believe it’s okay to be afraid.
I sighed heavily as I sat down to partake in a meal scarcely worth the coin. This meal is just another example of something we have little control over. I was eating because you’re supposed to, not because I was hungry. We are creatures of habit, products of routine, drones of a cosmic age. Moments ago, the sun was beating on the back of my neck, warming my entire being, As I sat alone in silence, lost in thought, waiting. Unsure what was to come. Yet, I sat waiting. I open my notebook.
It’s incredible what one hears in the silence. In this world, there isn’t any silence, not really. The noise is deafening, televisions blaring, but no one is listening. Humanity seems lost in the world of tiny screens and wrapped in the lives of make-believe. We are judging reality with contempt for having the nerve to be unfilling. We are having conversations that we aren’t paying attention to. Only to become offended for being misunderstood. We are spending our time poking fun at the unfortunate. Secretly, thankful we aren’t them.
It’s funny how one can never control when the words come or what they truly mean. We write and write until the movement has passed. Now, the once empty page; full. Turning the page, waiting for the next word to appear from the nothingness. Waiting for magic!
When I look at questions like these, they are so simple on the surface. I answer them in a few short lines: a witty remark or snarky comment. The simple answer for me is my world be so quiet and peaceful. There is no constant notifications of sales on anti-virus software, no Cialis sold at cost, or the lonely mature women needing to be serviced who are waiting for you just a click away. There are no ads from Classmates.com urging you to reconnect with people you don’t remember or are desperately trying to forget.
I would sit back in my easy chair and recall life from a different time. Something so long ago, it sometimes feels like a fairy tale or bedtime story. I stayed up late with my flashlight, reading the latest installment of Conan. My auntie kept my supply stocked. I read them exactly once before stacking them neatly in a trunk. I’d hear my mother coming down the hall to ensure I was in bed. I’d quickly shift to my side and pretend to be asleep. My mother never bought my act but never called me on it. I returned the favor when my daughters would read Goosebumps and The Babysitters Club.
When my children were young, I would sit quietly, reading by the light of the fireplace. My dogs were nestled nearby. They looked as if they were asleep like the children, but they did a lot of pretending as well. Yes, these simplistic scenes are nice and pleasant as we look at this question on the surface. So, let’s be bold and take a peep into the abyss.
Before we get started, let me put on a little mood music. Led Zeppelin’s In Through the Out Door will do nicely.
Let’s begin with the basic survival needs. My life without a computer would be dark, cold, hot, or anything else that occurs in the absence of electricity. A computer system manages the current power grid. No computer, no power, it’s that simple. With no electricity, my refrigerator and freezer would unthaw. My food supply would take a drastic hit. I couldn’t keep my medication at the proper temperature. So, it diminishes my survival chances with each second that ticks away.
You figured I could go to the store and purchase more food, right? Say the grocery store has a backup generator, so their products have survived. However, I couldn’t ring up my purchases because a class 2 laser reads the bar codes, and they feed information into what? That’s right, a computer. Let’s remember the use of electronic funds. We could go to the bank and get cash, but wait… the tellers use a computer to access your banking information…oops!
Soon, we would run out of gas, so there goes the backup generators. No? Well, a computer-assisted system runs the pumps of today. Not to mention, computer systems run all the refineries. Oh yeah, I forgot, computers also run the food processing plants.
Do you want to hear something strange? The things I listed in this post are just scratching the surface, like the question. Despite this, we can get a glimpse of how deeply computers integrate into our daily lives. Yeah, if things were that simple.
As always
Memoirs of Madness 