I feigned sleep as she glanced at the clock on the nightstand. An almost imperceptible frown crossed her face as we shared one common thought - only one more hour together.
She eased off the bed, careful not to wake me. I watched her through half-shut eyes as she walked across the hotel room.
1511.
Still wearing only my sweater from the night before, she stood by the window staring at the skyline but seeing nothing. The image of her silhouette burned inside me.
A thought crossed my mind and I hated myself for it. I wanted her to leave without saying a word. No goodbyes, no promises of phonecalls or emails, no hope for another last night. And I knew she was thinking the same.
Only 45 more minutes and I'm scared to death.
I need to tell her I love her. She would laugh and nothing would change. But worse would be for her to feel the same. Worse because we can only exist right here in this hotel room.
1511.
No husbands or wives. No commitments or obligations. Just an island with nothing between her skin and mine. Nothing but her lips and mine.
I pull the sheets tighter around me as she steps in the shower.
Just 30 more minutes and I smell her on me. Her perfume and her sweat. Her makeup and her sex. It washes over me.
The water shuts off and my heart pounds in my chest. I just want her to leave so that nothing remains. She opens the door and her eyes meet mine.
15 more minutes.
I start to speak.
Sunday, March 15, 2026
It Doesn't Help To Be Beautiful
I could feel him as he looked right through me
he was reading Locke and asked aloud
"now who was that guy who wrote Oedipe?"
"Francois Marie Arouet" I half-whispered
He thumbed through his shelf looking for the answer
opened one book then another
"I know I have it here somewhere" he said
"His pen name was Voltaire" I murmured
a little softer this time
"Didn't he have a one word name" he asked
"like Madonna or Oddjob"
"Maybe I should call Dave. He'll know"
"They stole his body and threw it in the garbage" I said to no one
"He's not home. I forgot it's Saturday"
He logged on to his laptop
"It's right on the tip of my tongue"
"They never found his brain" I thought to myself
"This is driving me crazy! Why can't I think of his name?"
He was exasperated now
I hated him when he was like this
Why won't he listen to me?
"IT'S FUCKING VOLTAIRE, YOU STUPID ASSHOLE!" I screamed and slammed the bathroom door
he was reading Locke and asked aloud
"now who was that guy who wrote Oedipe?"
"Francois Marie Arouet" I half-whispered
He thumbed through his shelf looking for the answer
opened one book then another
"I know I have it here somewhere" he said
"His pen name was Voltaire" I murmured
a little softer this time
"Didn't he have a one word name" he asked
"like Madonna or Oddjob"
"Maybe I should call Dave. He'll know"
"They stole his body and threw it in the garbage" I said to no one
"He's not home. I forgot it's Saturday"
He logged on to his laptop
"It's right on the tip of my tongue"
"They never found his brain" I thought to myself
"This is driving me crazy! Why can't I think of his name?"
He was exasperated now
I hated him when he was like this
Why won't he listen to me?
"IT'S FUCKING VOLTAIRE, YOU STUPID ASSHOLE!" I screamed and slammed the bathroom door
Mein Traum
"What do you keep in your attic?" she asked
as I showed her around my house
Just some old boxes and a few books
maybe a photo album or two
I don't go in there much anymore
"Can I see what's inside?"
Nah, it's really a mess in there
I've been meaning to clean up
and throw some stuff away
You wouldn't be interested with anything I have
"Well, the outside of your house is fabulous"
Yeah, I inherited it from my dad when he died
I still have some of his stuff up there
"Are you sure you don't want to show me what's inside"
You better get going before it gets too dark
"You're probably right. I had fun though"
I was barely hearing her now
"You want me to patch your sweater first?"
No, I'll just wear a jacket over it
It's getting cold in here anyhow
"Can you still help me paint my place next weekend?"
Sure, I'd love to help. Goodbye
I shut the door before she looked back
Turning out the lights, I walked up the steps
into the attic & locked the door behind me
as I showed her around my house
Just some old boxes and a few books
maybe a photo album or two
I don't go in there much anymore
"Can I see what's inside?"
Nah, it's really a mess in there
I've been meaning to clean up
and throw some stuff away
You wouldn't be interested with anything I have
"Well, the outside of your house is fabulous"
Yeah, I inherited it from my dad when he died
I still have some of his stuff up there
"Are you sure you don't want to show me what's inside"
You better get going before it gets too dark
"You're probably right. I had fun though"
I was barely hearing her now
"You want me to patch your sweater first?"
No, I'll just wear a jacket over it
It's getting cold in here anyhow
"Can you still help me paint my place next weekend?"
Sure, I'd love to help. Goodbye
I shut the door before she looked back
Turning out the lights, I walked up the steps
into the attic & locked the door behind me
Things She Left Behind
her Weezer shirt stole from an ex-boyfriend
Organic vanilla soymilk in the back of the fridge
a shot glass-shaped hole in the wall
cigarette burns on the bathtub shelf
a pair of her panties she didn't know I took
some James Taylor MP3's on my old laptop
a two inch scar on the back of my neck
her favorite hairbrush in my glove compartment
A half-read copy of Slaughterhouse 5
a muffled scream that I still hear
two mascaras inside the couch
the smell of her perfume on my flannel sheets
a crumpled photo I pulled from the trash
a 4am voicemail left on my phone
an empty prescription bottle hidden in her drawer
dried-up rose petals under the bed
a tear-stained invite to her sister's wedding
Nude 5 lipstick on my favorite shirt collar
a stray blonde hair on the passenger seat
a bottle of rain from our trip to Belize
a phone number scrawled on the back of a dollar
a spare key to her grandma's house
her road-worn reeboks in the hall closet
a note left for only me.
Organic vanilla soymilk in the back of the fridge
a shot glass-shaped hole in the wall
cigarette burns on the bathtub shelf
a pair of her panties she didn't know I took
some James Taylor MP3's on my old laptop
a two inch scar on the back of my neck
her favorite hairbrush in my glove compartment
A half-read copy of Slaughterhouse 5
a muffled scream that I still hear
two mascaras inside the couch
the smell of her perfume on my flannel sheets
a crumpled photo I pulled from the trash
a 4am voicemail left on my phone
an empty prescription bottle hidden in her drawer
dried-up rose petals under the bed
a tear-stained invite to her sister's wedding
Nude 5 lipstick on my favorite shirt collar
a stray blonde hair on the passenger seat
a bottle of rain from our trip to Belize
a phone number scrawled on the back of a dollar
a spare key to her grandma's house
her road-worn reeboks in the hall closet
a note left for only me.
she asked
why don't you like when I wear perfume?
do you want to come inside?
what does your dad do?
you're not going to leave, are you?
is this going to hurt?
why do your friends call me A.B.?
how come you're so quiet tonight?
why do you keep staring at me?
will you go to the hospital with me?
what kind of calls did you get?
you're not scared, are you?
do i look ok in this dress?
do you want me to go now?
will you please just stay until i fall asleep?
are you crying?
oh my God, this is it, isn't it?
did you try to call this morning?
can you come over to talk?
is it ok if i dim the lights a bit?
i'm not holding on too tight, am i?
is he a good doctor?
will you please just go?
you're going to hate me when i'm gone, aren't you?
do you like when i do that?
do you want to come inside?
what does your dad do?
you're not going to leave, are you?
is this going to hurt?
why do your friends call me A.B.?
how come you're so quiet tonight?
why do you keep staring at me?
will you go to the hospital with me?
what kind of calls did you get?
you're not scared, are you?
do i look ok in this dress?
do you want me to go now?
will you please just stay until i fall asleep?
are you crying?
oh my God, this is it, isn't it?
did you try to call this morning?
can you come over to talk?
is it ok if i dim the lights a bit?
i'm not holding on too tight, am i?
is he a good doctor?
will you please just go?
you're going to hate me when i'm gone, aren't you?
do you like when i do that?
Wash It Off
I see the stain
but I can't seem to wash it off
how did I get so ugly
I know everyone will see
Old Spice and Pall Malls
but I can't seem to wash it out
Jim Beam sweat mixes
with lemonade tears
stubble and calloused hands
but I can't seem to push them away
I know I should be stronger
this is how paralysis feels
gruff whispers and moans
but I can't seem to block them out
pain stings my eyes
he said it won't always hurt
confusion fogs my mind
but I can't seem to clear it up
I bleed inside and out
they never taught me about this
secrets begging to be revealed
but I can't seem to let them out
stuck in this nightmare
that makes me less than a man
but I can't seem to wash it off
how did I get so ugly
I know everyone will see
Old Spice and Pall Malls
but I can't seem to wash it out
Jim Beam sweat mixes
with lemonade tears
stubble and calloused hands
but I can't seem to push them away
I know I should be stronger
this is how paralysis feels
gruff whispers and moans
but I can't seem to block them out
pain stings my eyes
he said it won't always hurt
confusion fogs my mind
but I can't seem to clear it up
I bleed inside and out
they never taught me about this
secrets begging to be revealed
but I can't seem to let them out
stuck in this nightmare
that makes me less than a man
The Other Side Of The Wall
I glide into the room, confident and perfectly aloof
a nod of the head to her, elbow-grasping shake to him
a few "you look amazing"'s and "did you see the game"s
"Now won't you please excuse me. I'll brink you back a drink"
I walk into the other room
How did I get so ugly? My flesh peels off the bone
my voice cracks and my eye twitches uncontrollably
as I begin to scratch at my face
I limp back to the party
"You were drinking a scotch & soda, right?"
"now what were you saying about your daughter?
"A Vassar grad? You must be very proud"
"oh, a page. I need to take this in the other room"
I stride back to the other side of the wall
running my hands through my greasy scraggly hair
if begins to fall out in clumps, spilling onto the floor
exposing the scars and scabs on my scalp
I crawl back to the scene
"oh, thank you but I can't take credit for it"
"it was put together by a designer from Home Expo"
"I liked how he combined different colors and textures"
"Let me go get you his business card"
I saunter into the back room
I poke at the tumor protruding from my stomach
scraping away the dead skin and crust
it's twice as big as it was this morning
I slumped to the floor and drifted to sleep
a nod of the head to her, elbow-grasping shake to him
a few "you look amazing"'s and "did you see the game"s
"Now won't you please excuse me. I'll brink you back a drink"
I walk into the other room
How did I get so ugly? My flesh peels off the bone
my voice cracks and my eye twitches uncontrollably
as I begin to scratch at my face
I limp back to the party
"You were drinking a scotch & soda, right?"
"now what were you saying about your daughter?
"A Vassar grad? You must be very proud"
"oh, a page. I need to take this in the other room"
I stride back to the other side of the wall
running my hands through my greasy scraggly hair
if begins to fall out in clumps, spilling onto the floor
exposing the scars and scabs on my scalp
I crawl back to the scene
"oh, thank you but I can't take credit for it"
"it was put together by a designer from Home Expo"
"I liked how he combined different colors and textures"
"Let me go get you his business card"
I saunter into the back room
I poke at the tumor protruding from my stomach
scraping away the dead skin and crust
it's twice as big as it was this morning
I slumped to the floor and drifted to sleep
The Seed...The Flower...The Wilting - aka Random Couplings
A secret party, our friends watching Buckner's muff
our teenage lust, making out in the next room
In your car outside the haunted house
you heart still racing against my chest
You catch the eye of another fool
blonder, taller, popular
Opposite tables in the public library
a glance. a smile. nervous conversation
we collapsed after a breathless workout
I taste your sweat & you taste mine
You go to college, I'm still at home
we don't even pretend to try
You grabbed my butt and said "nice game"
1/2 drunk intramural softball hero
You ask to invite a friend over
I didn't know what you were talking about
So many softball heroes, so little time
You move on to your next conquest
We started talking on the ferry to Ft Sumter
You were restoring a house on the Battery
Laying in the sand on Sullivan's Island
out greatest fear in the world? the sun coming up
I understood that you had to go back
but I couldn't watch you drive away
The first haircut I paid more than $9 for
I closed my eyes as you ran your fingers through
Another haircut 5 weeks later, this time at home
you'd get arrested if you wore that at work
Too much passion. Not enough in common
but we still held on every now and then
Trading drinks at the Rock Bottom Brewery
mourning your marriage, dead four hours
Started in the elevator on the way up to my room
didn't stop until the ride back down
There was nothing left to say or do
No illusions, no promises, no goodbyes
I watched as angels carried you down from heaven
and placed you by my side
every hour, every minute, every second
I thanked God for having you in my life
Your parents sat next to me at your party
If they only knew, they'd hate me even more
our teenage lust, making out in the next room
In your car outside the haunted house
you heart still racing against my chest
You catch the eye of another fool
blonder, taller, popular
Opposite tables in the public library
a glance. a smile. nervous conversation
we collapsed after a breathless workout
I taste your sweat & you taste mine
You go to college, I'm still at home
we don't even pretend to try
You grabbed my butt and said "nice game"
1/2 drunk intramural softball hero
You ask to invite a friend over
I didn't know what you were talking about
So many softball heroes, so little time
You move on to your next conquest
We started talking on the ferry to Ft Sumter
You were restoring a house on the Battery
Laying in the sand on Sullivan's Island
out greatest fear in the world? the sun coming up
I understood that you had to go back
but I couldn't watch you drive away
The first haircut I paid more than $9 for
I closed my eyes as you ran your fingers through
Another haircut 5 weeks later, this time at home
you'd get arrested if you wore that at work
Too much passion. Not enough in common
but we still held on every now and then
Trading drinks at the Rock Bottom Brewery
mourning your marriage, dead four hours
Started in the elevator on the way up to my room
didn't stop until the ride back down
There was nothing left to say or do
No illusions, no promises, no goodbyes
I watched as angels carried you down from heaven
and placed you by my side
every hour, every minute, every second
I thanked God for having you in my life
Your parents sat next to me at your party
If they only knew, they'd hate me even more
What If
What if I was poison?
Would you still taste me?
Absinthe, demerol & hemlock
killing you from the inside
What if I was a liar?
Would you still trust me?
forked tongue, twisted mind
you'll never know the real me
What if I was diseased?
Would you still fuck me?
you can't tell from the outside
One part pleasure, 10 parts pain
What if I was evil?
Would you still follow me?
through the dark alleys
& into this abandoned warehouse?
What if I was broke?
Would you still need me?
empty room on a folding chair
eating baked beans from a can
What if I was ugly?
Would you still want me?
grotesque, pock-marked albino
maybe this isn't a mask
What if I was sadistic?
Would you still listen to me?
scratching, biting, clawing
just another plaything
What if I was contagious?
Would you still hold me?
fever, nausea, hallucinations
you're starting to feel it too
What if I was numb inside?
Would you still love me?
hate, passion, rage, yearning
things that I'll never feel
What if I was dying?
Would you still nurse me?
shallow breathing and faint pulse
maybe not worth saving
Would you still taste me?
Absinthe, demerol & hemlock
killing you from the inside
What if I was a liar?
Would you still trust me?
forked tongue, twisted mind
you'll never know the real me
What if I was diseased?
Would you still fuck me?
you can't tell from the outside
One part pleasure, 10 parts pain
What if I was evil?
Would you still follow me?
through the dark alleys
& into this abandoned warehouse?
What if I was broke?
Would you still need me?
empty room on a folding chair
eating baked beans from a can
What if I was ugly?
Would you still want me?
grotesque, pock-marked albino
maybe this isn't a mask
What if I was sadistic?
Would you still listen to me?
scratching, biting, clawing
just another plaything
What if I was contagious?
Would you still hold me?
fever, nausea, hallucinations
you're starting to feel it too
What if I was numb inside?
Would you still love me?
hate, passion, rage, yearning
things that I'll never feel
What if I was dying?
Would you still nurse me?
shallow breathing and faint pulse
maybe not worth saving
She Gave It Away
Lara was born with a innocent heart
chastity, virtue and simple grace
but she gave it away
to a thief. in a car. for a promise
Her poet's mind continued to grow
passion, ambition and a muse's eye
but she gave it away
to a pipe. in an alley. for a rush
Grasping on to her Pollyanna soul
her faith in the goodness of man
but she gave it away
to a trick. in a dive. for a fix
They couldn't take her wayfaring spirit
freedom, gypsy wanderlust
but she gave it away
to a judge. in a cell. for a year
Nothing left now but tomorrow
hopes, dreams, desires
but she gave it away
to a razor. in a tub. for ever
chastity, virtue and simple grace
but she gave it away
to a thief. in a car. for a promise
Her poet's mind continued to grow
passion, ambition and a muse's eye
but she gave it away
to a pipe. in an alley. for a rush
Grasping on to her Pollyanna soul
her faith in the goodness of man
but she gave it away
to a trick. in a dive. for a fix
They couldn't take her wayfaring spirit
freedom, gypsy wanderlust
but she gave it away
to a judge. in a cell. for a year
Nothing left now but tomorrow
hopes, dreams, desires
but she gave it away
to a razor. in a tub. for ever
It's Just Sex
I hope you don't think that I do this a lot. I mean, we both had been drinking and just got caught up in the moment. I don't know what is was about you that just brought something out in me. I don't know if it was your perfume or your dress or the way you kept brushing your hair out of your eyes. And I never usually dance. But going from the bar to the dance floor to the corner to your apartment seemed to flow so naturally.
But still ..... it's just sex.
Even now, it's great just to get together and blow off steam. It was awkward at first, but now it seems so easy between us. No commitment. No worrying about who calls who, who dates who. We definitely don't have the same problems real couples have - one of us is feeling lonely and we give the other a call. No big deal. No strings.
Because when you think about it ... it's just sex.
But even now that we hang out a bit more, I don't feel as suffocated as I would if you were my "girlfriend" (whatever the hell that means). And it just makes sense for you to have a key. It's not like I'm seeing anyone else right now anyhow. Not that I couldn't, because it's not like we're exclusive or anything like that.
Even with the other stuff .... it's just sex
Thanks for letting me sleep over last night. Usually I head home right afterwards, but for some reasons I just felt like laying there. Maybe I should keep a change of clothes at your place just in case. I don't want you to feel like I'm invading, but you know - just in case. And I really liked the mahi-mahi you made last night. I had no idea you could cook.
Still ... it's just sex
Was that your mom that you were talking to on the phone? I guess it's ok that you called me your "boyfriend". I hadn't really thought about it until now but I suppose it would be hard to explain to her what I really am. Your lover? Your booty call? Your friend with benefits? Yeah, I hate that term too.
You couldn't tell her .... it's just sex
I can't explain it but I think about you all the time. I catch myself daydreaming at work and my friends have started to ask me what's going on. I know it's irrational considering we're not "serious" or anything. I feel stupid even telling you about it because we've never really talked about "us" or a "future".
Because it's just sex ........ right?
But still ..... it's just sex.
Even now, it's great just to get together and blow off steam. It was awkward at first, but now it seems so easy between us. No commitment. No worrying about who calls who, who dates who. We definitely don't have the same problems real couples have - one of us is feeling lonely and we give the other a call. No big deal. No strings.
Because when you think about it ... it's just sex.
But even now that we hang out a bit more, I don't feel as suffocated as I would if you were my "girlfriend" (whatever the hell that means). And it just makes sense for you to have a key. It's not like I'm seeing anyone else right now anyhow. Not that I couldn't, because it's not like we're exclusive or anything like that.
Even with the other stuff .... it's just sex
Thanks for letting me sleep over last night. Usually I head home right afterwards, but for some reasons I just felt like laying there. Maybe I should keep a change of clothes at your place just in case. I don't want you to feel like I'm invading, but you know - just in case. And I really liked the mahi-mahi you made last night. I had no idea you could cook.
Still ... it's just sex
Was that your mom that you were talking to on the phone? I guess it's ok that you called me your "boyfriend". I hadn't really thought about it until now but I suppose it would be hard to explain to her what I really am. Your lover? Your booty call? Your friend with benefits? Yeah, I hate that term too.
You couldn't tell her .... it's just sex
I can't explain it but I think about you all the time. I catch myself daydreaming at work and my friends have started to ask me what's going on. I know it's irrational considering we're not "serious" or anything. I feel stupid even telling you about it because we've never really talked about "us" or a "future".
Because it's just sex ........ right?
Safe
Curled up fetal ball under the bed
Here no one can touch me
safe from harm and danger
orange flames lick the bedroom door
Surrounded by my silent friends
they'll protect me, right?
Leonardo Lion & Ed the Penguin
the bedroom getting warmer now
Faint cries from outside the window
I slide tighter against the wall
further shielded from the crackling menace
Dora the Explorer singes from the heat
Starting to cough puffs of grey
I pull the pillow over my eyes
if I can't see it then it can't see me
the smoke sinks lower in the room
My sanctuary has kept me safe before
from monsters & bears & demons
I squeeze my hands over my ears
to drown out the screeching beeps
Throat starts burning & scratching
eyes well and tear up
Mommy is going to be so angry at me
I drift to sleep in my safest place
Here no one can touch me
safe from harm and danger
orange flames lick the bedroom door
Surrounded by my silent friends
they'll protect me, right?
Leonardo Lion & Ed the Penguin
the bedroom getting warmer now
Faint cries from outside the window
I slide tighter against the wall
further shielded from the crackling menace
Dora the Explorer singes from the heat
Starting to cough puffs of grey
I pull the pillow over my eyes
if I can't see it then it can't see me
the smoke sinks lower in the room
My sanctuary has kept me safe before
from monsters & bears & demons
I squeeze my hands over my ears
to drown out the screeching beeps
Throat starts burning & scratching
eyes well and tear up
Mommy is going to be so angry at me
I drift to sleep in my safest place
Then What?
If I dialed your number
if I told you how I felt
Then what?
If I drove to your house
if I knocked on your door
Then what?
If you invited me inside
if you took me by the hand
Then what?
If I pulled your body to mine
if I held your face in my hands
Then what?
If you pressed your lips to mine
if your hands started to roam
Then what?
If I started to speak
if you put your fingers over my mouth
Then what?
If we walked up the steps
if we walked into your room
Then what?
If we laid down on your bed
if we never let each other go
Then what?
If I told you I loved you
if you told me you loved me back
Then what...?
if I told you how I felt
Then what?
If I drove to your house
if I knocked on your door
Then what?
If you invited me inside
if you took me by the hand
Then what?
If I pulled your body to mine
if I held your face in my hands
Then what?
If you pressed your lips to mine
if your hands started to roam
Then what?
If I started to speak
if you put your fingers over my mouth
Then what?
If we walked up the steps
if we walked into your room
Then what?
If we laid down on your bed
if we never let each other go
Then what?
If I told you I loved you
if you told me you loved me back
Then what...?
Things She'll Never See
My hands shaking as I write her name
my underwear on the floor
my calendar marked with our personal milestones
me slamming a glass against the wall in frustration
The letter I wrote to my dad
the notes I keep from another woman
my "trophies" from past relationships
the Call History on my cell
The email that I never sent her
the bottle of wine I'm saving for someone else
her picture I took when she wasn't looking
me whispering to her best friend
The post-it where I scribed her first name next to my last
my key to someone else's apartment
the suitcase I keep locked in the attic
A bullet in my dresser drawer
my underwear on the floor
my calendar marked with our personal milestones
me slamming a glass against the wall in frustration
The letter I wrote to my dad
the notes I keep from another woman
my "trophies" from past relationships
the Call History on my cell
The email that I never sent her
the bottle of wine I'm saving for someone else
her picture I took when she wasn't looking
me whispering to her best friend
The post-it where I scribed her first name next to my last
my key to someone else's apartment
the suitcase I keep locked in the attic
A bullet in my dresser drawer
And I'm Not Even Sorry
I had gotten off work and realized that I really didn't have anything at home to make for dinner. Not being in the mood for anything fastfood-related, I decided to swing by the Chilis/Applebees/TGIF place that was on my way. It would be pretty quick and I could use a beer or two after the day I had.
I walked right by the hostess and sat down at the bar. Even before I picked up the menu, I saw a very familiar looking woman a half dozen stools away. She looked backed at me and smiled so she must have known who I was. I nodded and scanned the menu as I tried to figure out where I knew her from.
Ah-ha, Jeff's party last summer. Kevin's date, Sheila or Sheena, maybe Sharon. Real meek and shy girl, as I remembered. Anyway, I had seen Kevin the previous week and he mentioned that he was getting ready for a business trip to Orlando. He was a nice enough guy too, but for some reason I just didn't like him, hard to put my finger on why.
I took a second and got into The Mode, then I slid down a few stools closer.
"Sheena, right?"
"Sheila actually, but very close ****. I didn't think you would remember me".
We ordered and started talking back and forth. She worked in a daycare, she was supposed to meet a girlfriend there but she had just called to say she wasn't going to make it..... and she was still dating Kevin.
"You are? Huh. That's weird."
"Why is that weird?" she asked.
"Oh, I don't know. It's just that I was talking to him last week and for some reason I got the impression that he was going down to Florida this week to meet up with a girl he dated in college".
Her jaw dropped open just for a second until she was able to compose herself.
"Uh, no. He is in Orlando this week, but it's for work. He said he's meeting some new client down there".
"Geez, I don't know how I got so mixed up. I must have got him confused with someone else".
With the seed of doubt planted, I went to work on her.
I asked how they were getting along, what they did over the holidays, was he calling her while he was out of town, etc etc. After five minutes, she ordered a shot. After ten minutes she started talking about how she didn't trust him and how he doesn't treat her as well as he should.
Another shot. Then another. Then another.
Now that she really wasn't in any condition to drive, I offered to take her home.
"But what about my car? I can't just leave it here" she said.
"No no. Don't worry about it. I'll swing by and pick you up in the morning on the way to work and you can get it then".
I took her home and walked her inside to make sure she got there ok.
"Thank you so much for taking care of me tonight. You're a great friend" she said as she gave me a friendly hug. Without letting go of each other, we backed off a bit. She leaned back in and we kissed.
I left a couple hours later. After I went into work the next morning, I realized that I had completely forgotten about her and her car. Oopsy. I heard later that she and Kevin broke up but I never heard why. She tried to call me a few times after that but thanks to caller ID, I haven't talked to her since.
I walked right by the hostess and sat down at the bar. Even before I picked up the menu, I saw a very familiar looking woman a half dozen stools away. She looked backed at me and smiled so she must have known who I was. I nodded and scanned the menu as I tried to figure out where I knew her from.
Ah-ha, Jeff's party last summer. Kevin's date, Sheila or Sheena, maybe Sharon. Real meek and shy girl, as I remembered. Anyway, I had seen Kevin the previous week and he mentioned that he was getting ready for a business trip to Orlando. He was a nice enough guy too, but for some reason I just didn't like him, hard to put my finger on why.
I took a second and got into The Mode, then I slid down a few stools closer.
"Sheena, right?"
"Sheila actually, but very close ****. I didn't think you would remember me".
We ordered and started talking back and forth. She worked in a daycare, she was supposed to meet a girlfriend there but she had just called to say she wasn't going to make it..... and she was still dating Kevin.
"You are? Huh. That's weird."
"Why is that weird?" she asked.
"Oh, I don't know. It's just that I was talking to him last week and for some reason I got the impression that he was going down to Florida this week to meet up with a girl he dated in college".
Her jaw dropped open just for a second until she was able to compose herself.
"Uh, no. He is in Orlando this week, but it's for work. He said he's meeting some new client down there".
"Geez, I don't know how I got so mixed up. I must have got him confused with someone else".
With the seed of doubt planted, I went to work on her.
I asked how they were getting along, what they did over the holidays, was he calling her while he was out of town, etc etc. After five minutes, she ordered a shot. After ten minutes she started talking about how she didn't trust him and how he doesn't treat her as well as he should.
Another shot. Then another. Then another.
Now that she really wasn't in any condition to drive, I offered to take her home.
"But what about my car? I can't just leave it here" she said.
"No no. Don't worry about it. I'll swing by and pick you up in the morning on the way to work and you can get it then".
I took her home and walked her inside to make sure she got there ok.
"Thank you so much for taking care of me tonight. You're a great friend" she said as she gave me a friendly hug. Without letting go of each other, we backed off a bit. She leaned back in and we kissed.
I left a couple hours later. After I went into work the next morning, I realized that I had completely forgotten about her and her car. Oopsy. I heard later that she and Kevin broke up but I never heard why. She tried to call me a few times after that but thanks to caller ID, I haven't talked to her since.
Viola Sororia
I watched her hop on the bus
with a wildflower in her hair
Not noticing the rude jerks in the seats
she reached up and grabbed a handle
without looking away from her copy of Manifesta
I gazed from behind a stock broker
The flower was blue with heart-shaped leaves
A violet or a poppy, I wouldn't know
She must have reached a funny passage
her smile came and drifted back to a gracious moue
I wondered what struck her as funny
It fell as the bus lurched to a sudden stop
The blue petals glided slowly to the floor
unnoticed among the industrious commuters
not recognizing the exquisite beauty beneath them
Her dark hair now unadorned
I worked my way forward towards her
My hearting beating as a foot grazed the stem
then another barely missed crushing it entirely
it's brushed under a seat to relative safety
The bus clears enough for me to reach it
the wildflower seemed tiny in my hand
I looked up just in time to watch her hop off the bus
still looking intently at her book
I held up the flower against her profile as she walked away
until she ducked inside an old stone church
then I wrapped it in a hankerchief
then slid it softly in my breast pocket
with a wildflower in her hair
Not noticing the rude jerks in the seats
she reached up and grabbed a handle
without looking away from her copy of Manifesta
I gazed from behind a stock broker
The flower was blue with heart-shaped leaves
A violet or a poppy, I wouldn't know
She must have reached a funny passage
her smile came and drifted back to a gracious moue
I wondered what struck her as funny
It fell as the bus lurched to a sudden stop
The blue petals glided slowly to the floor
unnoticed among the industrious commuters
not recognizing the exquisite beauty beneath them
Her dark hair now unadorned
I worked my way forward towards her
My hearting beating as a foot grazed the stem
then another barely missed crushing it entirely
it's brushed under a seat to relative safety
The bus clears enough for me to reach it
the wildflower seemed tiny in my hand
I looked up just in time to watch her hop off the bus
still looking intently at her book
I held up the flower against her profile as she walked away
until she ducked inside an old stone church
then I wrapped it in a hankerchief
then slid it softly in my breast pocket
She Pretended Not To Notice
She pretended not to notice
when I walked in the bar
when I sat down next to her
when I breathed in her perfume
She pretended not to notice
when I brushed her knee
when she touched my hand
when I spoke her name
She pretended not to notice
when I asked for the check
when I followed her out
when I followed her home
She pretended not to notice
when she left her front door open
when her button came undone
when I let out a gasp
She pretended not to notice
me standing behind her
my hand on her hip
my teeth on her neck
when I walked in the bar
when I sat down next to her
when I breathed in her perfume
She pretended not to notice
when I brushed her knee
when she touched my hand
when I spoke her name
She pretended not to notice
when I asked for the check
when I followed her out
when I followed her home
She pretended not to notice
when she left her front door open
when her button came undone
when I let out a gasp
She pretended not to notice
me standing behind her
my hand on her hip
my teeth on her neck
Gordian? Not
I'm not a paradox to be reconciled
not a riddle to be solved
not a mystery to be deduced
not a game to be played
not a prize to be won
not a book to be read
not a puzzle to put together
not a mess to be cleaned
not a lesson to be learned
not an animal to be tamed
not a code to be broken
not a riddle to be solved
not a mystery to be deduced
not a game to be played
not a prize to be won
not a book to be read
not a puzzle to put together
not a mess to be cleaned
not a lesson to be learned
not an animal to be tamed
not a code to be broken
Note On My Windshield
Dear ****.
I never thought that we'd reach the point where'd I'd hate you with as much intensity as I used to love you. But that's there I am now. I can't even remember what it was about you that caused me to let you in. You knew I wasn't in a good place when we first met but instead of comforting me, you took advantage of my frailty for reasons I still don't understand.
****, I'm sure it'll be a little ego boost for you to know that I'm still not over you after all this time. And I'm sure you have that sick little smile on your face as you're reading this. Why can't you just be an asshole all the time instead of just at the worst possible time? That way at least I would have known to completely avoid you?
It's so embarassing to have crawled back to you all those times. The sad thing is that I'll probably do it again. How pathetic is that to realize what a disease you are, but still not be able to stop infecting myself? Worse still is that your virus has spread everywhere I go. I can't drive anywhere or see any of my friends without being reminded of places we've been and things we've done. It's like a shitcloud following me everywhere.
If you ever cared for me even just a tiny bit, please just leave me alone. Even if I call you in a moment of weakness, please don't answer. And if I knock on your door, just pretend you're not home. I don't think I can handle seeing you but I also know I can't stop myself from trying. So you're going to have to do it for me.
****, you hurt me just because you could. But now that you've had your fun, please just let me be. I don't know what I'd do if you were in my life again.
******
I never thought that we'd reach the point where'd I'd hate you with as much intensity as I used to love you. But that's there I am now. I can't even remember what it was about you that caused me to let you in. You knew I wasn't in a good place when we first met but instead of comforting me, you took advantage of my frailty for reasons I still don't understand.
****, I'm sure it'll be a little ego boost for you to know that I'm still not over you after all this time. And I'm sure you have that sick little smile on your face as you're reading this. Why can't you just be an asshole all the time instead of just at the worst possible time? That way at least I would have known to completely avoid you?
It's so embarassing to have crawled back to you all those times. The sad thing is that I'll probably do it again. How pathetic is that to realize what a disease you are, but still not be able to stop infecting myself? Worse still is that your virus has spread everywhere I go. I can't drive anywhere or see any of my friends without being reminded of places we've been and things we've done. It's like a shitcloud following me everywhere.
If you ever cared for me even just a tiny bit, please just leave me alone. Even if I call you in a moment of weakness, please don't answer. And if I knock on your door, just pretend you're not home. I don't think I can handle seeing you but I also know I can't stop myself from trying. So you're going to have to do it for me.
****, you hurt me just because you could. But now that you've had your fun, please just let me be. I don't know what I'd do if you were in my life again.
******
Fuck It, I'm Going To Mexico
Ten degrees too cold for my Shaft jacket
six degrees from where I want to be
Rafters and studs and drywall and mud
fuck it, I'm going to Mexico
The doctor's never seen what I have
she'll never know what I don't
Stitches and pills and iodine and bills
fuck it, I'm going to Mexico
Running 'round to keep every door closed
light creeps through the keyhole
Sitcoms and news and cigars and booze
fuck it, I'm going to Mexico
Chinese takeout, three days in a row
Li Ma doesn't even work there anymore
Styrofoam and soy and dim sum and koi
fuck it, I'm going to Mexico
Same conversation, four hundreth time
the more they talk, the less I listen
phobias and shame and repression and blame
fuck it, I'm going to Mexico
Four things left from my room back home
survived countless trashcans and gasoline
letters and veil and pesos and shale
fuck it, I'm taking my dog down to Mexico
six degrees from where I want to be
Rafters and studs and drywall and mud
fuck it, I'm going to Mexico
The doctor's never seen what I have
she'll never know what I don't
Stitches and pills and iodine and bills
fuck it, I'm going to Mexico
Running 'round to keep every door closed
light creeps through the keyhole
Sitcoms and news and cigars and booze
fuck it, I'm going to Mexico
Chinese takeout, three days in a row
Li Ma doesn't even work there anymore
Styrofoam and soy and dim sum and koi
fuck it, I'm going to Mexico
Same conversation, four hundreth time
the more they talk, the less I listen
phobias and shame and repression and blame
fuck it, I'm going to Mexico
Four things left from my room back home
survived countless trashcans and gasoline
letters and veil and pesos and shale
fuck it, I'm taking my dog down to Mexico
One Of These Nights
One of these nights
I'm going to knock on your window
even if no one else is home
you'll giggle in your pajamas
while I tell you to "get dressed, let's go"
you'll be half-hearted hesitant
just for a second though
before you toss on some jeans
and run a brush through your hair
You'll slide it to ride shotgun
and ask "so where are we going?"
I'll just smile and head south
avoiding highways like we were on the lam
getting warmer the farther we go
top down, stars out, chance of rain
caring less the faster we drive
no responsibilities or concerns
the only souls we're saving are our own
We'll pass a tattoo shop at 3AM
an exchanged glance, an illegal u-turn
you'll get a butterfly on your shoulder
I'll get "Tragedia Hermoso" across my back
we'll make "Dude Sweet" jokes
the rest of the way down
and snicker at the names of the towns we pass
Red Lick, Hardwood and Kleinpeter
like we were fourteen years old
We'll pick our aliases before we get into town
you can be Veronica Lucretia, socialite from Rome
I'll be Roscoe Steele, bronc rider from Waco
ridiculously bad accents and even worse lies
we'll buy you a sequined black cocktail dress
with slightly-more-than-appropriate cleavage
I'll wear a Stetson and ostrich skin boots
and walk pigeon-toed and bow-legged
we'll count how many people point and stare
Everything and nothing has changed in a year
the Lions Den is gone but Irma's still here
Mudbone's still driving his carriage
and the angel still stands in Jackson Square
that record shop is back open on Decatur
we can roll the bones at Harrah's
as you kiss the dice for luck
we'll either go home rich or go home broke
but no regrets and no promises to break
I'm going to knock on your window
even if no one else is home
you'll giggle in your pajamas
while I tell you to "get dressed, let's go"
you'll be half-hearted hesitant
just for a second though
before you toss on some jeans
and run a brush through your hair
You'll slide it to ride shotgun
and ask "so where are we going?"
I'll just smile and head south
avoiding highways like we were on the lam
getting warmer the farther we go
top down, stars out, chance of rain
caring less the faster we drive
no responsibilities or concerns
the only souls we're saving are our own
We'll pass a tattoo shop at 3AM
an exchanged glance, an illegal u-turn
you'll get a butterfly on your shoulder
I'll get "Tragedia Hermoso" across my back
we'll make "Dude Sweet" jokes
the rest of the way down
and snicker at the names of the towns we pass
Red Lick, Hardwood and Kleinpeter
like we were fourteen years old
We'll pick our aliases before we get into town
you can be Veronica Lucretia, socialite from Rome
I'll be Roscoe Steele, bronc rider from Waco
ridiculously bad accents and even worse lies
we'll buy you a sequined black cocktail dress
with slightly-more-than-appropriate cleavage
I'll wear a Stetson and ostrich skin boots
and walk pigeon-toed and bow-legged
we'll count how many people point and stare
Everything and nothing has changed in a year
the Lions Den is gone but Irma's still here
Mudbone's still driving his carriage
and the angel still stands in Jackson Square
that record shop is back open on Decatur
we can roll the bones at Harrah's
as you kiss the dice for luck
we'll either go home rich or go home broke
but no regrets and no promises to break
The Sins of My Fathers
You probably couldn't tell just by looking at me, but I'm the last in a long line of semi-harmless rogues and semi-charmless outlaws.
My great-great grandfather spent some time in jail for selling phony deeds to government land to Irish immigrants fresh off the boat. An "involuntary guest of the federal government" as the colloquialism went in my family. Rumor has it that was the least of his crimes. He had a legendary reputation as a unrepentant swindler and a world-class avoider of all physical labor.
My great-grandfather was the product of an ephemeral relationship with the "touched" daughter of an Baltimore Lutheran minister. Given the unsuitability of his parents, he was sent off to live with a distant childless aunt in Cheyenne, Wyoming. He soon overcame the distinct disadvantages of the absence of any bad influences by becoming something of a scalawag in his own right. He made a decent living collecting the rewards from "lost" horses and livestock as well as working short stints as a dentist/doctor/undertaker (slightly unlicensed, of course).
He was shot dead as he was climbing out of someone else's bedroom window.
But not before he could leave his seed in the belly of a widowed Denver schoolteacher.
She raised my grandfather on her own. She'd had seven children who were mostly grown by the time he was born. They grew up to be fine upstanding citizens - lawyers, bankers and college professors. But my grandfather missed out on that gene and was cursed with the wayward blood of his father. Though he became very educated, it seemed to just make him a more effective crook. "Embezzlement" is probably too strong of a word, but he definitely leaned toward crime of a more white-collar variety. He was arrested (and acquitted) four times for "accounting errors" at a steel mill, coal & gold mines and a Methodist church where he served as a deacon. As the legend goes, the witnesses just liked him too much to testify against him.
It would have been a pretty safe bet that my father would have broke the chain of lawlessness, but it wasn't meant to be. He grew up straight as an arrow in Eisenhower's America, but soon regressed back into the shadowy crevasse between illegal and unethical. "It's just pot" soon became "I just need something to take the edge off" which in turn descended into search warrants and Ethics Review Boards.
Me? I've managed to stay out of jail and outside the crosshairs of wronged husbands. But not by much. And I couldn't tell you how long the streak will last. I don't presume to know when the pirate blood pumping through my veins will come to a boil.
Gentleman or charlatan.
Faithful or adulterous.
Honest or corrupt.
Pious or immoral.
It's still too soon to know for sure.
My great-great grandfather spent some time in jail for selling phony deeds to government land to Irish immigrants fresh off the boat. An "involuntary guest of the federal government" as the colloquialism went in my family. Rumor has it that was the least of his crimes. He had a legendary reputation as a unrepentant swindler and a world-class avoider of all physical labor.
My great-grandfather was the product of an ephemeral relationship with the "touched" daughter of an Baltimore Lutheran minister. Given the unsuitability of his parents, he was sent off to live with a distant childless aunt in Cheyenne, Wyoming. He soon overcame the distinct disadvantages of the absence of any bad influences by becoming something of a scalawag in his own right. He made a decent living collecting the rewards from "lost" horses and livestock as well as working short stints as a dentist/doctor/undertaker (slightly unlicensed, of course).
He was shot dead as he was climbing out of someone else's bedroom window.
But not before he could leave his seed in the belly of a widowed Denver schoolteacher.
She raised my grandfather on her own. She'd had seven children who were mostly grown by the time he was born. They grew up to be fine upstanding citizens - lawyers, bankers and college professors. But my grandfather missed out on that gene and was cursed with the wayward blood of his father. Though he became very educated, it seemed to just make him a more effective crook. "Embezzlement" is probably too strong of a word, but he definitely leaned toward crime of a more white-collar variety. He was arrested (and acquitted) four times for "accounting errors" at a steel mill, coal & gold mines and a Methodist church where he served as a deacon. As the legend goes, the witnesses just liked him too much to testify against him.
It would have been a pretty safe bet that my father would have broke the chain of lawlessness, but it wasn't meant to be. He grew up straight as an arrow in Eisenhower's America, but soon regressed back into the shadowy crevasse between illegal and unethical. "It's just pot" soon became "I just need something to take the edge off" which in turn descended into search warrants and Ethics Review Boards.
Me? I've managed to stay out of jail and outside the crosshairs of wronged husbands. But not by much. And I couldn't tell you how long the streak will last. I don't presume to know when the pirate blood pumping through my veins will come to a boil.
Gentleman or charlatan.
Faithful or adulterous.
Honest or corrupt.
Pious or immoral.
It's still too soon to know for sure.
Time Trials
Sunday Night:
1 large veggie pizza with pineapple from Dominos - $13.59 plus tip
Time from initial call til knock on my door - 46 minutes
1 Asian or Hispanic masseuse under the age of 25 - $235.00 plus tip
Time from initial call til knock on my door - 41 minutes
Tuesday Night:
1 order of General Tsao's chicken & one egg roll - $9.88 plus tip
Time from initial call til knock on my door - 53 minutes
1 recently divorced redheaded ex-girlfriend - no charge
Time from initial call til knock on my door - 36 minutes
Wednesday Night
Half rack of St Louis ribs and 6 hot wings - $17.45 plus tip
Time from initial call til knock on my door - 64 minutes
One mid-40's stranger (self-described MILF) from Craigslist - 2 Bass Ales
Time from initial call til knock on my door - 53 minutes
Tonight
1 large Reuben with horseradish and coleslaw - $13.26 plus tip
Time from initial call til knock on my door - 26 minutes
2 female escorts, one older & one younger, both athletic - $775.00 plus tip
Time from initial call til knock on my door - 31 minutes & counting
1 large veggie pizza with pineapple from Dominos - $13.59 plus tip
Time from initial call til knock on my door - 46 minutes
1 Asian or Hispanic masseuse under the age of 25 - $235.00 plus tip
Time from initial call til knock on my door - 41 minutes
Tuesday Night:
1 order of General Tsao's chicken & one egg roll - $9.88 plus tip
Time from initial call til knock on my door - 53 minutes
1 recently divorced redheaded ex-girlfriend - no charge
Time from initial call til knock on my door - 36 minutes
Wednesday Night
Half rack of St Louis ribs and 6 hot wings - $17.45 plus tip
Time from initial call til knock on my door - 64 minutes
One mid-40's stranger (self-described MILF) from Craigslist - 2 Bass Ales
Time from initial call til knock on my door - 53 minutes
Tonight
1 large Reuben with horseradish and coleslaw - $13.26 plus tip
Time from initial call til knock on my door - 26 minutes
2 female escorts, one older & one younger, both athletic - $775.00 plus tip
Time from initial call til knock on my door - 31 minutes & counting
Sunday, November 17, 2024
Letters To Loves Long Lost - Vol. I (Tanya)
Dear Tanya,
Without getting into my own personal motives for writing this, I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry for the way things ended between us. We had been through a lot together and you deserved more than just a message on your answering machine. I doubt that it's any consolation, but I spent the next 3 months trying to build up the courage to set things right. But each time I got close, I convinced myself that you'd be better off never hearing my voice again.
I heard that you got married a few years back. I'm legitimately happy for you and I hope that he's everything you need in a man and a husband. You really are one of the few truly good people I've ever met in my life so I'm glad that things are working out for you.
I actually saw you at the airport a few weeks back. You were about 50 feet in front of me in the Security line. It looked like you were with some friends. I was going to try to catch up to you in the terminal, but I think it would have been a little too awkward, considering. Still, you looked great.
Anyway, I just wanted to get this all on paper so you'd know that I really regret being such a painful episode in your life. I really never meant to hurt you. But I hope that you get the life and the happiness you deserve.
Sincerely,
****
Without getting into my own personal motives for writing this, I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry for the way things ended between us. We had been through a lot together and you deserved more than just a message on your answering machine. I doubt that it's any consolation, but I spent the next 3 months trying to build up the courage to set things right. But each time I got close, I convinced myself that you'd be better off never hearing my voice again.
I heard that you got married a few years back. I'm legitimately happy for you and I hope that he's everything you need in a man and a husband. You really are one of the few truly good people I've ever met in my life so I'm glad that things are working out for you.
I actually saw you at the airport a few weeks back. You were about 50 feet in front of me in the Security line. It looked like you were with some friends. I was going to try to catch up to you in the terminal, but I think it would have been a little too awkward, considering. Still, you looked great.
Anyway, I just wanted to get this all on paper so you'd know that I really regret being such a painful episode in your life. I really never meant to hurt you. But I hope that you get the life and the happiness you deserve.
Sincerely,
****
Crash
She'd driven winding paths before
twisted & curvy, hills and bumps
she reveled in it really
making the road her own
riding every single one
of the 280 horses
at her fingertips
under her seat
rushing through her veins
She downshifted just as she'd done
a thousand times before
left foot synchronized with the right
taking the top of the curve
effortlessly turning the wheel
down into the turn
the tires begin to slip
Her determined, self-satisfied grin disappears
and is replaced with something else
surprise, fear, excitement, anticipation
the back end starts to slide out
the car begins to scream
her knuckles are drained of blood
her pupils fill her eyes
the sky is the ground and the ground is the sky
once, twice, three times, more
her hands are jolted off the wheel
her body slammed against the door
then back to the other side
whiteness explodes in her face
softening the blow
she's smiling now
one last floating spiral
through the air, through the dust
suspended animation
and in that fraction of a second.......
a pure blanket of freedom
twisted & curvy, hills and bumps
she reveled in it really
making the road her own
riding every single one
of the 280 horses
at her fingertips
under her seat
rushing through her veins
She downshifted just as she'd done
a thousand times before
left foot synchronized with the right
taking the top of the curve
effortlessly turning the wheel
down into the turn
the tires begin to slip
Her determined, self-satisfied grin disappears
and is replaced with something else
surprise, fear, excitement, anticipation
the back end starts to slide out
the car begins to scream
her knuckles are drained of blood
her pupils fill her eyes
the sky is the ground and the ground is the sky
once, twice, three times, more
her hands are jolted off the wheel
her body slammed against the door
then back to the other side
whiteness explodes in her face
softening the blow
she's smiling now
one last floating spiral
through the air, through the dust
suspended animation
and in that fraction of a second.......
a pure blanket of freedom
The Hotel Room
Warm champagne spoils in a bucket of water
one lipstick-ringed plastic cup
three broken french manicured nails
black cumberbund draped over the back of a chair
silky petals sleep on the carpet below
Tuxedoed groom slumped unblinking in the corner
his shirt slowly turning from red to brown
scattered envelopes litter the bed
Her never-worn teddy stuffed in the trash
the morning sun peeks through the drawn curtains
both key cards tossed on the dresser
"Do Not Disturb" sign hastily hung on the knob
Overturned lamp next to the still-made bed
neighbors still upset from the newlywed's vigor
two calls to the front desk complaining about the noise
six-inch stiletto dropped thoughtlessly in the sink
Simple yet beautiful wedding dress hung up with care
jeweled heels placed perfectly beneath
a note scribbled on a napkin & pinned to the pillow
unconsummated air grows stagnant in the room
one lipstick-ringed plastic cup
three broken french manicured nails
black cumberbund draped over the back of a chair
silky petals sleep on the carpet below
Tuxedoed groom slumped unblinking in the corner
his shirt slowly turning from red to brown
scattered envelopes litter the bed
Her never-worn teddy stuffed in the trash
the morning sun peeks through the drawn curtains
both key cards tossed on the dresser
"Do Not Disturb" sign hastily hung on the knob
Overturned lamp next to the still-made bed
neighbors still upset from the newlywed's vigor
two calls to the front desk complaining about the noise
six-inch stiletto dropped thoughtlessly in the sink
Simple yet beautiful wedding dress hung up with care
jeweled heels placed perfectly beneath
a note scribbled on a napkin & pinned to the pillow
unconsummated air grows stagnant in the room
Stupid People Getting What They Deserve
So I go to the same diner a few times a week. It opens at 6AM so I can stop in on the way to the office. Sometimes I have breakfast, sometimes I'll just pick up something for lunch later and sometimes I'll just have a couple of cups of coffee. There's a regular crowd that time of the morning but they're good at leaving you alone if that's what you want.
Anyway, there's this bus boy that's been working there for a while. I'm not sure what his problem is (cleft palate maybe) but he talks really funny and he scampers everywhere he goes. Annoys the hell out of me. I used to keep dropping my silverware on the floor just to watch him scurry back and forth.
So I get in there this morning and what happens? Little retarded busboy comes over to take my breakfast order! I couldn't believe it. He wasn't that great of a busboy so why the hell should he be promoted to waiter? I don't care how busy they are, I shouldn't have to listen to him try to lisp out the daily specials - "shaushage and home fwies".
But I was starving to death so I decided to just deal with it. I gave him my order but told him to make sure to wash his hands before he brings it back - I sure as hell didn't want to catch whatever he had. That got a laugh from the next table over. You could tell that they didn't want the bucket head bringing their food either.
So I watch him scamper to the kitchen, scamper to another table, scamper here, scamper there. Finally I just get sick of it. He comes out of the kitchen carrying this big ass tray of food to one of the tables in the back, heading right towards me not even paying any attention to where he's going. All it took was me barely sliding my foot out from under the table and WOOSH - the hairlip busboy flops onto the floor sending eggs & syrup everywhere. You should have seen it, absolutely hilarious.
So he's laying belly-down on the tile floor and looks up to see the whole place just laughing their asses off - he actually had a pancake on his head and powdered sugar all over his face - absolutely freakin' priceless. He gets up as fast as he could trying to clean up the mess he made - "I'm shorry, I'm shorry, I'm shorry".
Hopefully he'll be back bussing tables tomorrow morning.
Anyway, there's this bus boy that's been working there for a while. I'm not sure what his problem is (cleft palate maybe) but he talks really funny and he scampers everywhere he goes. Annoys the hell out of me. I used to keep dropping my silverware on the floor just to watch him scurry back and forth.
So I get in there this morning and what happens? Little retarded busboy comes over to take my breakfast order! I couldn't believe it. He wasn't that great of a busboy so why the hell should he be promoted to waiter? I don't care how busy they are, I shouldn't have to listen to him try to lisp out the daily specials - "shaushage and home fwies".
But I was starving to death so I decided to just deal with it. I gave him my order but told him to make sure to wash his hands before he brings it back - I sure as hell didn't want to catch whatever he had. That got a laugh from the next table over. You could tell that they didn't want the bucket head bringing their food either.
So I watch him scamper to the kitchen, scamper to another table, scamper here, scamper there. Finally I just get sick of it. He comes out of the kitchen carrying this big ass tray of food to one of the tables in the back, heading right towards me not even paying any attention to where he's going. All it took was me barely sliding my foot out from under the table and WOOSH - the hairlip busboy flops onto the floor sending eggs & syrup everywhere. You should have seen it, absolutely hilarious.
So he's laying belly-down on the tile floor and looks up to see the whole place just laughing their asses off - he actually had a pancake on his head and powdered sugar all over his face - absolutely freakin' priceless. He gets up as fast as he could trying to clean up the mess he made - "I'm shorry, I'm shorry, I'm shorry".
Hopefully he'll be back bussing tables tomorrow morning.
Not Quite Drunk Enough
Not quite drunk enough
to give her a call
to say her name out loud
to leave my door open
to throw away the key
to tell her I'm sorry
to explain why I'm an asshole
to ask her to come back
to tell her to stay away
to send her the letter
to remember her touch
to forget her voice
to stop picking her scab
to delete her number
to run to her
to make it better
to make it worse
to finish this bottle
to pass out in my chair
to open the childproof cap
to let her know how I feel
to give her a call
to say her name out loud
to leave my door open
to throw away the key
to tell her I'm sorry
to explain why I'm an asshole
to ask her to come back
to tell her to stay away
to send her the letter
to remember her touch
to forget her voice
to stop picking her scab
to delete her number
to run to her
to make it better
to make it worse
to finish this bottle
to pass out in my chair
to open the childproof cap
to let her know how I feel
Why She Went Away
I spent hundreds of hours trying to reach level 70 in WoW
I didn't ask who she was talking to while I watched TV
I offered her a drawer when she needed my entire home
I convinced myself that what she wanted was what I wanted
I pretended to sleep while she cried next to me
I turned away when she showed me who she really was
I took her to the same restaurant where I'd taken all my ex's
My only present to her wilted in the cheap plastic vase
I waited patiently on my couch for her to come over
I touched her where my last girlfriend liked to be touched
The only ink on my birthday card to her was Hallmark's
I thought my wants were more important than her needs
I cooked her dinner in the microwave
I thought she was ugly when she was never more beautiful
I wrote about inanity when I should have been writing to her
I let her think she wasn't important to me
I fucked her when she needed to be loved
That's why she went away
I didn't ask who she was talking to while I watched TV
I offered her a drawer when she needed my entire home
I convinced myself that what she wanted was what I wanted
I pretended to sleep while she cried next to me
I turned away when she showed me who she really was
I took her to the same restaurant where I'd taken all my ex's
My only present to her wilted in the cheap plastic vase
I waited patiently on my couch for her to come over
I touched her where my last girlfriend liked to be touched
The only ink on my birthday card to her was Hallmark's
I thought my wants were more important than her needs
I cooked her dinner in the microwave
I thought she was ugly when she was never more beautiful
I wrote about inanity when I should have been writing to her
I let her think she wasn't important to me
I fucked her when she needed to be loved
That's why she went away
The Rest of the Story - Tuesday at The Corner Bar & Grille
She emailed me after seeing me in the paper. Just a quote, eight paragraphs down. We hadn't talked in nine years, and then only a quick phone conversation when I came back to town. I asked her to lunch. At first she seemed interested, but she called back and said no. Then not a word for almost a decade.
She contacted me from her work email address. No matter what time of day we emailed, it was always from her work email. The conversations were always about her and me. Some here and there about her kids, but almost nothing about her husband. But it was always friendly and platonic. But still, lots of red flags. I even brought it up once. Asked her what her intentions were. She pretty much laughed it off and attributed it to my ginormous ego. From an Occam's Razor perspective, she was probably right.
So by now we're emailing back and forth fairly regularly. Not even about "catching up" topics. It was like no time had passed. And it wasn't even as if we were all that close back then either. She ran track at my sister school so we'd ridden on busses together. She high jumped and ran the 800, and I just pole vaulted so we had a LOT of time between events. You wouldn't even think we'd be a thing, especially if you saw her back then. Kinda mousy and slender (that my polite way of saying she was very flat-chested). Were were just mostly back-and-forth flirty, but we ended up getting together at regionals in a tent under the bleachers (if you know anything about track meets, particularly relays, they last a long long time with HOURS between your events). At the time, I was dating this college girl who was growing bored with dating a high school kid and she was dating the guy named Shawn who everyone else in the world except for her knew was gay. Like Adam Lambert gay.
Yeah, so we're mailing back and forth. And in my head I'm thinking it's strange that we hadn't exchanged phone numbers, but since I'm not a big phone-guy anyhow, I just look at it as a blessing.
I don't even remember which one of us suggested lunch. Probably me. We decided on a place halfway between my office and her house. And...... she stands me up. I sit there like a chump for an hour and a half (kind of ironic considering my history of being "stood up"). And since I don't have her number, I can't call her.
So I get back to my office and see that she's sent me several emails apologizing, something or the other came up, but maybe we can meet at the same place for drinks later if I was free. Now, if this was ANYONE else, I wouldn't have been free. I wouldn't have been free for a while. But I was free.
She stopped by on her way to work. She was a trainer (just not at Bally's), and showed up in her work clothes. I showed up in mine. Quite the pair.
So we talk about nothing.
She contacted me from her work email address. No matter what time of day we emailed, it was always from her work email. The conversations were always about her and me. Some here and there about her kids, but almost nothing about her husband. But it was always friendly and platonic. But still, lots of red flags. I even brought it up once. Asked her what her intentions were. She pretty much laughed it off and attributed it to my ginormous ego. From an Occam's Razor perspective, she was probably right.
So by now we're emailing back and forth fairly regularly. Not even about "catching up" topics. It was like no time had passed. And it wasn't even as if we were all that close back then either. She ran track at my sister school so we'd ridden on busses together. She high jumped and ran the 800, and I just pole vaulted so we had a LOT of time between events. You wouldn't even think we'd be a thing, especially if you saw her back then. Kinda mousy and slender (that my polite way of saying she was very flat-chested). Were were just mostly back-and-forth flirty, but we ended up getting together at regionals in a tent under the bleachers (if you know anything about track meets, particularly relays, they last a long long time with HOURS between your events). At the time, I was dating this college girl who was growing bored with dating a high school kid and she was dating the guy named Shawn who everyone else in the world except for her knew was gay. Like Adam Lambert gay.
Yeah, so we're mailing back and forth. And in my head I'm thinking it's strange that we hadn't exchanged phone numbers, but since I'm not a big phone-guy anyhow, I just look at it as a blessing.
I don't even remember which one of us suggested lunch. Probably me. We decided on a place halfway between my office and her house. And...... she stands me up. I sit there like a chump for an hour and a half (kind of ironic considering my history of being "stood up"). And since I don't have her number, I can't call her.
So I get back to my office and see that she's sent me several emails apologizing, something or the other came up, but maybe we can meet at the same place for drinks later if I was free. Now, if this was ANYONE else, I wouldn't have been free. I wouldn't have been free for a while. But I was free.
She stopped by on her way to work. She was a trainer (just not at Bally's), and showed up in her work clothes. I showed up in mine. Quite the pair.
So we talk about nothing.
Sunday, July 25, 2021
Si Usted Me Necesita...
Égoïste
I used to have a real job. A real boss, 401k, bi-weekly paychecks - the whole 9 yards. And because I wasn't bound by the constraints of family, friends or a social life, I used to work relatively long hours. The only problem with that is, at that time, I lived about an hour commute away from the office. So working until 10-11 o'clock 5-6 nights a week, then driving 40+ miles home, sleeping for 4-5 hours, then getting up and driving another hour back into work got a little old after a while. So I was left with 2 basic options - either sell my house and get a place in the city OR find a cheap little studio downtown to crash after working late.
I opted for door number two.
I found a place about 2 blocks from my office. It was an unfurnished loft in a converted bottle factory (glass, not baby). Nothing extraordinarily special about it - about 600 sq ft of open space with ladder access to a raised sleeping area, but it was perfect for my needs. And it had a lot of good light, which was unfortunate because I didn't think I'd see much of the place during the day.
I signed a 6-month lease with an option for month-to-month after that. I bought a cheap couch, a platform bed and stashed a week's supply of clothes in the closet. It was pretty sweet for a while. Kinda like my own little private hideout, a safehouse that only I knew about.
Until I made the mistake of letting someone else in on the secret.
There was this admin in Finance. We had exchanged pleasantries and innuendo for a few weeks until one night when we were the last two people in the office. I was working late. She was working late. We went for drinks afterwards. We wanted a little privacy.
You get the picture.
This went on for the better part of 2 months. We'd work late, get drunk then go back to my place and have at it. We even took advantage of the close proximity to have a few long "lunches" as well. We'd come back to the office with our hair mussed and clothes wrinkled, but I don't think anyone suspected anything nefarious.
A little background on her - early 20's, graduated from a private catholic college in Texas, tight swimmer's body, dating a 3rd year med student. It would be fair to say that she didn't have a lot of bedroom experience up until that point in her life. And the experience she did have wasn't much more than the drunken-frat-boy "grope'n'poke" variety. Since her boyfriend spent a lot of time at school, they didn't have much of a chance to spend much time together. So she really came of age bedroom-wise while we were together.
So anyway, this goes on a bit longer until she starts feeling guilty about her boyfriend and decides that she needs to spend more time with him. She tells me that she can't do this any longer and breaks it off. She even gave her notice at our company and started working for the census bureau. I was definitely ok with it because I was getting even less sleep than when I was driving all the way home each night. And it wasn't like I had anything invested in her except the physical thing.
So I stopped seeing her...... for about a month.
She developed this habit of hanging out with her friends at a downtown bar and getting too drunk to drive home. So she'd walk over to my loft and knock on the door to see if I was there. This happened once every couple of weeks. I'd let her in, put her to sleep in my bed then I'd go sleep on the couch. Then she'd come over to the couch and start kissing my neck. I'd tell her to knock it off because I had to go into work early. Then she'd start rubbing my chest. So we'd end up making out for a while. Out of a convoluted respect for her relationship with her boyfriend, I wouldn't go any further than that.
A few months of this goes by. It starts getting pretty old for me. I got the place so I could get some sleep after working late, but now I was sleeping way less if at all.
So she comes over late one Friday night. After her engagement party. Smashed as she could be. I tell her that she can sleep on the bed but she better stay there. I lay down on the couch and go to sleep. I wake up about 7am when I feel her on top of me, completely undressed. I tell her to cut it out. She starts doing certain things to me (for the sake of decency, I'll leave it at that). I push her away and tell her to get off me. She starts doing something to me even more provocative.
I'm a man. I have weaknesses.
I roll over on top and enter her. Nothing intimate. Nothing affectionate. Just going through the motions to get it over with.
I look down to see her avoiding eye contact with me as her eyes almost start to tear up. I couldn't freaking believe she was pulling that shit. I roll off her said things that I regret. Pretty much a total prick. Things like "what the hell did you expect me to do?" and "what's your f-ing problem?".
You know, being the sensitive guy I am.
She stopped coming over after that.
Yet
Grown up to be a woman
yet still a little girl inside
Settled for a boy
yet still longing for a man
Found her purpose
yet not the one she hoped it would be
Living with uncompromising honesty
yet still hiding one dark secret
Content to wear jeans and a sweater
yet gazes longingly at the gown in the window
Pleased with her life
yet holding out hope for another
Grasped hard-learned lessons
yet feels like a schoolgirl next to him
Sees the beauty around her
yet dreams of somewhere else
Tuesday at The Corner Bar & Grille
i should have known better
i had no business being there
but she laughed when i hesitated
"as if you could still charm my pants off"
"you know we're not 18 anymore"
she said she could only meet at lunch
she worked evenings at Ballys
spinning class til 5, pilates at 7
she'd be at the Corner after her shower
just to talk & hear about the Alison
i was cautiously cautious at first
we had a past and she had a present
married a decade, 3 kids of her own
one played the piano, 2 danced ballet
she lulled me into apprehensive optimism
the conversation flowed then ebbed
she paused then asked if i was happy
"youve known me since i was 16"
"you ever know me to be happy?"
i noticed her eyes were as weary as my own
right then i hoped we could be friends
and she told me she decided to be happy
right after her dad died last year
it got closer to 7 and she had to go
sometimes her husband brought her lunch
i stepped up to hug her goodbye
as we stood shivering outside the bar
i swear to God i wanted to be friends
but the our lips somehow met
our bodies somehow embraced
"lets go sit a minute in my car"
she said as she took me by my hand
i should have known better
i had no business being there
but it was cold & maybe i could make her happy
she drove a few blocks away, quiet
she was going to be late anyhow
her tiny hands in mine, it began
slowly at first, then with a hunger
then with a longing, i began to drown
she unbuttoned my shirt, 6 buttons down
then my belt as she unzipped her pants
i looked around to make sure we were alone
both of us half-naked under the streetlight
the windows fogged, streaked by fingerprints
i saw the truth as she crawled in the backseat
leopard-print bra and laced black thong
no way she'd wear that just for work
it should have been boy-shorts & jogging bra
she knew we'd be here when she woke this morning
i should have seen this coming
i should have known better
theres no way i should be here right now
but i still crawled back to be with her
next to the child safety seat and bookbag
we couldnt be friends after this
we would be something else entirely
stolen glances as we past in the street
she'd be someone to give me what she wanted
me not man enough to give her what she needs
The Facade
I just happened to be positioned behind her as she mingled at a cocktail party, a drink in her right hand so she could be demonstrative with her ringed left. She was halfway through telling a woman ten years younger about the roses her husband had bought herfor her birthday and the "just precious" construction paper card her son made her in art class, concluding with "and the he hugged me and told me I was the beautifulest mommy in the whole world!".
I just shook my head, thinking about the last time I'd seen her - checking her re-applied lipstick in my passenger-side visor mirror before she returned to work. I offered her a piece of gum as she reached to open the door.
But her decade-long marriage must have improved over the last three months.
I took my time pouring myself a drink as she continued her soliloquy, no audience in particular, oblivious to my proximity. Now talking about her job, how embarassed she was when her boss singled her out for praise for her "invaluable contribution" and he "wouldn't know what to do without her". I reflexively shook my head, knowing her role to be a faceless administrative drone, reviewing paperwork and spell-checking other's work.
I was courteously apologetic as I brushed by, spilling my drink down her dress, name-brand but purchased during offseason clearance. Her face went from shock to anger to recognition to surprised to unsure to uncomfortable over the next few seconds. Had I overheard her well-rehearsed script, her smoky mirror?
She looked down to the floor, then back at me and cautiously gestured to the back door. I brushed some invisible lint from my lapel, grabbed the hand of a younger woman and walked away.
Particle Board
You stood two steps behind him
as he unlocked the door to his 2nd floor apartment
with a partial view of the pool & the highway
Carrington Place or Crane's Landing or The Meadows
He walked in, flipping the light switch
a black halogen pole lamp illuminates the foyer
you step cautiously onto the neutral linoleum
your heels sticking a bit, leather on plastic
He walks four or five steps into the kitchen
opening the cabinet, you know the kind
tan pressed wood that swells when wet
he withdraws a bottle of peppermint schnapps
he rests the bottle on the laminate countertop
youre still wearing your charcoal gray peacoat
as he gestures to Sanyo cd player
and asks you to put on some "mood" music
Flipping through his random collection
The Killers, Creed, the Crue & Chili Peppers
"hey, just push play" he calls over to you
Sex of Fire begins to play from the tinny speakers
He sets down two plastic schnapps-filled glasses
on the black particle board coffee table
that he bought in a box & assembled with an allen wrench
water rings & ciggy burns scattered randomly
he makes room for you on his futon
you remove your coat, draping it on his gamer rocker
he leans over as you sit beside him
his goatee tickles your chin as you kiss
you look around while he squeezes your breast
aluminum, particle board, plastic and polyester
a lack of permanence and perspective
all of it garbage within five years, maybe less
Is that where you really want to be?
hooked up with some random who smells like Axe
while I'm at home on my leather chaise
making out with a waitress from Applebees
The Pill
Sulphur in her mouth
cursing the physician
so sickened by the treatment
she doesn't even realize
she no longer has the disease
Subtle
Its the little things
that let me know she's been here
(when she not supposed to be)
still-warm water droplets in my tub
the scent of a cologne I haven't worn in a while
Diorskin Nude inside the collar of my favorite shirt
My bed a little too well-made
her silhouette barely graces my pillow
my robe hung a little too neatly on the closet door
HF Saint upside down in my bookcase
Damien Rice at the top of my playlist
Prescriptions aligned in the medicine cabinet
My notebooks, dog-earred and well-read
a cigar missing from my humidor
(not one of the good ones though)
Maybe I shouldn't be away from the house for so long
maybe I should keep all the windows locked
but then who would keep me company?
Uninvited
I heard footsteps walking up the path to my house
But I had sent no invitations
I had made no appointments
No welcome mat in front of my door
Then a delicate knock on unstained oak
and a silhouette against the frosted sidelights
She had no way of knowing anyone was home
No lights, no sound, mailbox overflowing with postcards
Her frailty calmed my unease
What danger could she possibly pose?
I unlatched the deadbolt, removed the chain
Cracked the door and let her inside
She said she's driven by this house for years
always wondering what it was like inside
finally worked up the courage to knock
Grateful to find someone inside
I hadn't wanted/expected company
But still I said nothing
as she walked through the first floor
and began to turn on all the lights
She seemed to know her way around
Removing two mugs from the pine hutch
and brewed coffee for me, tea for her
as we sat on opposite ends of my couch
Obviously incapable of doing any harm
to a calloused, caustic man like me
I didn't thank her for her warmth
But I didn't latch the door when she left
Afterwards, she came and went as she pleased
sometimes I was home, other times not
Though aware of one unspoken rule
Make yourself at home, but respect locked doors
My bedroom, the basement, the garage
All else was hers to explore, to wander
For which she appeared to be content
Even when I wasn't there to police
But then I arrived home, worn & humbled
Things seemed slightly out of place
my nightstand, my wine cellar, my keys
She lied and said it wasn't her
I didn't invite her in my home after that
Easter Shenanigans
I have precisely one Easter tradition in my house. Hell, it's probably the only actual holiday tradition I have.
The house I lived in about 14 years ago backed up against a winding creek that formed the border of my little town. The creek made a fairly straight run through my property but then made a sharp right turn as it headed east. So the patch of land between my house and my neighbor's house was a 3/4 acre triangle swatch peppered with oak trees and tiger lillies that had spread from the roadside path. During the summer, the trees were full enough to form an impervious curtain that provided total isolation between the two properties. But starting in late fall and lasting until mid-spring, I could sit on my back deck and see my neighbor sitting on his though the bare trees.
It was on such a early spring Saturday evening when Robyn and I were laying in the chaise on one of the first semi-warm nights of the season. We began to watch as our neighbor, Ron (maybe in his mid-50's then), walking around his backyard in with no discernible pattern or purpose. He'd walk behind a tree, bend over, walk across to the flower garden, bend over, and so on. This went on before we figured out what he was doing - hiding little plastic Easter eggs for his grandkids to search for the next day.
Now for most people, this might seem a precious & tender moment to be enjoyed and savored. After all, I lived In a town seemingly painted by either Norman Rockwell or Thomas Kincade, depending which side of town you were on. But for us, it was an opportunity for some slightly more, well, not-quite-malicious activities.
"Would you like some Peeps?" I asked her as my neighbor headed inside, task completed. She playfully slugged me, but I knew her thinking was along the same lines as mine.
We drank a bottle and a half of Louis Jadot Bourgogne until we saw the lights go out next store. We crept though the woods until simply planning on stealing some Peeps and Cadbury eggs neatly contained in a small plastic egg. But then we found the first egg, it's outer shelled scribes in block letters, "Audrey". The next we found was labeled Ethan. It turns out all were marked with the names of one of his 5 grandkids.
We crouched behind a tree plotting our next course of action. The fair thing to do would be to steal candy equally from each child's egg. The evil thing to do would be to steal all the candy from only one child's eggs, thereby sentencing him/her to a lifetime of low self-esteem and feelings of familial inadequacy and alienation.
But then Robyn asked, "How much cash do you have?".
I pulled out my money clip and she extracted a fifty dollar bill.
"Which name is your favorite?", she asked next.
"Hmmm, let's go with Nora".
She walked over to the bird feeder, picked up an egg labeled "Nora", opened it up, inserted the fifty, re-sealed it, placed it gently where it was, grabbed my hand and led me back home sans chocolate or Peeps.
We woke early the next morning and drank coffee on the dock along the creek where we had a full perspective on the festivities next door.
A "ready....set...GO!". Five kids, toddlers through elementary, scramble through the yard. A 5 year year old girl (presumably Nora) squeals in delight. The four others, seeing her bounty, now dash madly around the property looking for their own $50 egg..... To no avail. Confused parents. Ron in a state of complete disbelief. Kids begin to cry. Nora fiercely protecting her priceless egg. Parents begin to argue.
While Robyn and I drink hazelnut coffee, blissful and contented.
Nora got fifties for the next two years with the same results. The following year Ron tried to head off the holiday disaster by putting one $50 bill in each of the kids' eggs. I replaced Nora's fifty with a $100 bill.
The kids stopped getting eggs when they hit about 14 years old, but the older kids would be replaced with younger ones, one of which would always be selected at random for added cash from me. I think Ron began to suspect I was involved, but abandoned that theory when it continued after I moved away.
So early in the morning every Easter, I sneak into Ron's yard for another round of holiday shenanigans.
Instead
She dreamed of backpacking Hemingway's path
Pamplona, Key West, Cojimar, School Creek
Reading & writing every mile along the way
She took 8 community college courses Instead
She envisioned skin & sweat & passion
Two bodies intertwined and afire
Nothing existing beyond themselves
She accepted an accountant's proposal Instead
She wanted to save a piece of the world
One sick and deprived soul at a time
Nothing so pure as a woman with a cause
She took a job selling condos instead
She still always kept two books in her purse
On Writing Well and Slaughterhouse Five
Trying to finish a rough outline of her novel
But she got pregnant Instead
Refocused and her life reprioritized
Intent on raising a gentleman & scholar
Museums, culture, sport and charm
She started drinking at noon Instead
She met a man who lived her unlived life
Bitter, jaded, diseased, and unloved
Who longed for the things she had
But she envied him Instead.
Saturday, May 11, 2019
Twenty Minutes Pass
"I'm not crazy. I just needed someone to talk to"
"Holidays can be a stressful time, but I'm really glad you called"
"Yeah, right. I'm sure there's nothing else you'd rather be doing"
"Actually, I'm very happy to be here"
"It's not fair - you know my name but I don't know yours"
"It's Jason"
"Jason? Is that your real name or the name they make you use?"
"The one they make me use. It's really ****"
"So did you lose a coin flip or something?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean how'd you get suckered into working Christmas?"
"Just lucky, I guess"
Twenty minutes pass.
"So is that pathetic or what?"
"Actually it sounds like you've handled it pretty well"
"It just seems like it's getting harder and harder"
"But you're getting stronger and stronger"
"Karen is not my real name"
"I know, but that's OK"
"There's something else I should tell you"
Twenty minutes pass.
"I'm gonna finish watching 'Traveling Pants'"
"I admit - that made me cry"
laughing "I should have guessed"
"Shhh, don't tell anyone"
"I think I'm going to be OK"
"I think so too"
"I almost didn't call"
"It made my day that you did"
Twenty seconds pass.
"Thank you" *click*
"No, thank you"
"Holidays can be a stressful time, but I'm really glad you called"
"Yeah, right. I'm sure there's nothing else you'd rather be doing"
"Actually, I'm very happy to be here"
"It's not fair - you know my name but I don't know yours"
"It's Jason"
"Jason? Is that your real name or the name they make you use?"
"The one they make me use. It's really ****"
"So did you lose a coin flip or something?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean how'd you get suckered into working Christmas?"
"Just lucky, I guess"
Twenty minutes pass.
"So is that pathetic or what?"
"Actually it sounds like you've handled it pretty well"
"It just seems like it's getting harder and harder"
"But you're getting stronger and stronger"
"Karen is not my real name"
"I know, but that's OK"
"There's something else I should tell you"
Twenty minutes pass.
"I'm gonna finish watching 'Traveling Pants'"
"I admit - that made me cry"
laughing "I should have guessed"
"Shhh, don't tell anyone"
"I think I'm going to be OK"
"I think so too"
"I almost didn't call"
"It made my day that you did"
Twenty seconds pass.
"Thank you" *click*
"No, thank you"
Maybe A Roomba Will Give My Life Meaning
I should go get a shiatsu massager
that'll make me happy, right?
or those black Kenneth Coles
like Jeff was wearing the other day
Damn that espresso machine
it failed to fill a void in my soul
The flip-down tv for the kitchen?
it definitely impeded my chi
the black motorcycle jacket
looked better on the mannequin
why did I even buy it?
I sold my motorcycle last year
I have hope for the leather chairs
they really pull the room together
besides, I've been needing a place
to sit while I put my socks on
Poker tables are the big thing now
I should get one as soon as I can
then maybe the people I hate
will like me even better
that'll make me happy, right?
or those black Kenneth Coles
like Jeff was wearing the other day
Damn that espresso machine
it failed to fill a void in my soul
The flip-down tv for the kitchen?
it definitely impeded my chi
the black motorcycle jacket
looked better on the mannequin
why did I even buy it?
I sold my motorcycle last year
I have hope for the leather chairs
they really pull the room together
besides, I've been needing a place
to sit while I put my socks on
Poker tables are the big thing now
I should get one as soon as I can
then maybe the people I hate
will like me even better
Things That Separate Us
A half a lifetime
twenty seven miles
your well-meaning friends
my hidden guilt
A fraction of an inch
an unspoken promise
a glance in a crowd
the scent of Amarige
Three more hours
a 12 year old vow
an uneasy laugh
fear of tomorrow morning
A forlorn sigh
surpressed pain
memories that don't go away
forbidden desire
A knock at the door
hurt in a child's eyes
a knowing look from a stranger
an ounce of gold
twenty seven miles
your well-meaning friends
my hidden guilt
A fraction of an inch
an unspoken promise
a glance in a crowd
the scent of Amarige
Three more hours
a 12 year old vow
an uneasy laugh
fear of tomorrow morning
A forlorn sigh
surpressed pain
memories that don't go away
forbidden desire
A knock at the door
hurt in a child's eyes
a knowing look from a stranger
an ounce of gold
To Andrea I Never Knew
You don't know who I am but I know everything you want in the world.
You're an innocent soul filled with hope, taking giddy pleasure in simplicity.
Hungry Hungry Hippos
I've never seen you but I know your eyes are filled with wonder.
You long to explore, uncover and conquer mysterious worlds.
Dragon Books
We've never spoken but I know what you need.
Child-like joy in winter's fury.
Hat & Mittens
I've never felt you squeeze my hand but I know what's in your heart
You hide the isolation you feel from being different.
Sparkly Jeans & Soft Sweater - Size 8
I don't know where you live but I can picture your room
The few things you treasure neatly stowed away.
Floor Puzzle
I hope I never exist in your world. I wish that you know nothing more than the simple pleasure of getting everything you've asked for on Christmas morning. And more. Because I know you're thankful for everything you have. I won't be there to see it but I know your smile will light up the room and I will feel it in my heart.
Merry Christmas Andrea - you're more than just a name on a tree.
You're an innocent soul filled with hope, taking giddy pleasure in simplicity.
Hungry Hungry Hippos
I've never seen you but I know your eyes are filled with wonder.
You long to explore, uncover and conquer mysterious worlds.
Dragon Books
We've never spoken but I know what you need.
Child-like joy in winter's fury.
Hat & Mittens
I've never felt you squeeze my hand but I know what's in your heart
You hide the isolation you feel from being different.
Sparkly Jeans & Soft Sweater - Size 8
I don't know where you live but I can picture your room
The few things you treasure neatly stowed away.
Floor Puzzle
I hope I never exist in your world. I wish that you know nothing more than the simple pleasure of getting everything you've asked for on Christmas morning. And more. Because I know you're thankful for everything you have. I won't be there to see it but I know your smile will light up the room and I will feel it in my heart.
Merry Christmas Andrea - you're more than just a name on a tree.
5:37AM
She had left her wineglass half-full
on my copper topped coffee table
from the night before, before bed
directly beneath the vase centerpiece
a tulip petal had fallen perfectly
and settled into the Bleasdale Shiraz
like a disembodied cupped hand
a ringless finger as the apex
Addict Basic 253 on the rim
formed a streaked opaque heart
more are scattered round the room
the mirror, a pen, my neck
on my copper topped coffee table
from the night before, before bed
directly beneath the vase centerpiece
a tulip petal had fallen perfectly
and settled into the Bleasdale Shiraz
like a disembodied cupped hand
a ringless finger as the apex
Addict Basic 253 on the rim
formed a streaked opaque heart
more are scattered round the room
the mirror, a pen, my neck
Sunday, October 15, 2017
XC90
We had taken turns driving
But to be honest
she'd done more than her share
Maybe because I needed more sleep
Maybe just because she wanted to get there faster
But you couldn't tell by her pace
five miles above the speed limit
middle lane, no worries about being stopped
She would sing along softly to the radio as I slept
then laugh at my jokes when I took the wheel
I'm not sure when she slept
She followed the GPS's commands to the letter
I shut if off and stopped at every tourist trap
I was never entirely sure when we'd get there
unsure if the destination would be better than the ride
But to be honest
she'd done more than her share
Maybe because I needed more sleep
Maybe just because she wanted to get there faster
But you couldn't tell by her pace
five miles above the speed limit
middle lane, no worries about being stopped
She would sing along softly to the radio as I slept
then laugh at my jokes when I took the wheel
I'm not sure when she slept
She followed the GPS's commands to the letter
I shut if off and stopped at every tourist trap
I was never entirely sure when we'd get there
unsure if the destination would be better than the ride
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
My Own Medicine
It was really just pure chance that I was close enough to stumble over to your house
I was at that hotel bar a few blocks away and must have lost track of my drinking
Didn't even realize how far gone I was until I stood up to try to leave
Yeah, I know there are bars that are a lot closer, walking distance even, to my house
But I wasn't even thinking about that when I headed out the door. Swear.
I was just going to walk for awhile because I accidentally drank my cab money
But then a car drove by and that "Anything For You" song was playing on the radio
You know, the one that you dedicated to me on K105 after I broke up with you?
I thought it was pretty cheesy back then, funny even, but it kinda struck me as I walked
It made me feel guilty for not returning all the voicemails you left that week
So that song reminded me of you then I remembered your house was close by
I knew you wouldn't be home yet. You're still on second shift at the hospital, right?
That's why I didn't even knock on the door & just headed on back to your porch swing
Maybe to sleep for a while until I sober up enough to drive on back home
I probably should have bought a coffee when I passed that convenience store
I didn't even hear your car pull into the garage, I was sleeping so hard
Only knew you were home when you closed the door and went inside
Right then I figured I should just go because you were probably to tired to deal
I was going to wait until the lights went out, but I guess you heard me swinging
Don't know why you weren't scared at first, but who else would it have been but me?
It was real cool of you to invite me in to sleep on your pullout couch
You really really didn't have to do that. But I know you're that kind of person
I promise I'll get up and before your new boyfriend comes over tomorrow
That might be hard to explain. What's that? Oh yeah, I know were just friends now.
And again, I'm really sorry for causing so much trouble. And for that stuff before
Do you have like a trash can or something that I can keep here next to me?
I should be ok, but 'member that time we rented that beachhouse with Mike & Laura?
I got so plastered and couldn't stop throwing up. I might've had the flu then too
But I felt better the next day because you made me drink fluids and take Tylenol before bed
That was a pretty good weekend, you think? Oh yeah, probably not as much fun for you
Just go to bed, ok? I'll be fine out here. Besides, you look tired. You should try to get more sleep
I worry about you sometimes thinking about you here all alone without someone to care for you
I really hope you find someone to make you happy. What? He proposed? That's .... good for you
Ummm I'm really happy, but you know what? I feel better now so I'm just gonna go
I'll be alright once I get back to my car. The roads should be pretty clear by now
One more thing before I leave....... thanks.
I was at that hotel bar a few blocks away and must have lost track of my drinking
Didn't even realize how far gone I was until I stood up to try to leave
Yeah, I know there are bars that are a lot closer, walking distance even, to my house
But I wasn't even thinking about that when I headed out the door. Swear.
I was just going to walk for awhile because I accidentally drank my cab money
But then a car drove by and that "Anything For You" song was playing on the radio
You know, the one that you dedicated to me on K105 after I broke up with you?
I thought it was pretty cheesy back then, funny even, but it kinda struck me as I walked
It made me feel guilty for not returning all the voicemails you left that week
So that song reminded me of you then I remembered your house was close by
I knew you wouldn't be home yet. You're still on second shift at the hospital, right?
That's why I didn't even knock on the door & just headed on back to your porch swing
Maybe to sleep for a while until I sober up enough to drive on back home
I probably should have bought a coffee when I passed that convenience store
I didn't even hear your car pull into the garage, I was sleeping so hard
Only knew you were home when you closed the door and went inside
Right then I figured I should just go because you were probably to tired to deal
I was going to wait until the lights went out, but I guess you heard me swinging
Don't know why you weren't scared at first, but who else would it have been but me?
It was real cool of you to invite me in to sleep on your pullout couch
You really really didn't have to do that. But I know you're that kind of person
I promise I'll get up and before your new boyfriend comes over tomorrow
That might be hard to explain. What's that? Oh yeah, I know were just friends now.
And again, I'm really sorry for causing so much trouble. And for that stuff before
Do you have like a trash can or something that I can keep here next to me?
I should be ok, but 'member that time we rented that beachhouse with Mike & Laura?
I got so plastered and couldn't stop throwing up. I might've had the flu then too
But I felt better the next day because you made me drink fluids and take Tylenol before bed
That was a pretty good weekend, you think? Oh yeah, probably not as much fun for you
Just go to bed, ok? I'll be fine out here. Besides, you look tired. You should try to get more sleep
I worry about you sometimes thinking about you here all alone without someone to care for you
I really hope you find someone to make you happy. What? He proposed? That's .... good for you
Ummm I'm really happy, but you know what? I feel better now so I'm just gonna go
I'll be alright once I get back to my car. The roads should be pretty clear by now
One more thing before I leave....... thanks.
Dissociative Identity Disorder
I knew a little boy who dodged his shadow,
laughed at thunder & gave his milk money to beggars.
I knew an old man who cursed his children,
slept in his clothes & drank Finlandia from a coffee cup
I knew a frat boy who could quote Voltaire,
play a mean scrum half & seduce art history majors
I knew an uncle who pulled a card from thin air,
loaned money to the undeserving & bought teens beer
I knew a middle manager who lunched at TGIFridays,
wore birthday ties & looked around before telling a joke
I knew a boyfriend who bought reasonless flowers,
peeked at cleavage & tried to fix her Honda Civic
I knew a young deacon who counseled the faithless,
read Genesis 6:5 with conviction & frowned at your tithe
I knew an unremarkable man who feigned wisdom,
stole money from your purse & left you unsatisfied
Smerdyakov - 2007
laughed at thunder & gave his milk money to beggars.
I knew an old man who cursed his children,
slept in his clothes & drank Finlandia from a coffee cup
I knew a frat boy who could quote Voltaire,
play a mean scrum half & seduce art history majors
I knew an uncle who pulled a card from thin air,
loaned money to the undeserving & bought teens beer
I knew a middle manager who lunched at TGIFridays,
wore birthday ties & looked around before telling a joke
I knew a boyfriend who bought reasonless flowers,
peeked at cleavage & tried to fix her Honda Civic
I knew a young deacon who counseled the faithless,
read Genesis 6:5 with conviction & frowned at your tithe
I knew an unremarkable man who feigned wisdom,
stole money from your purse & left you unsatisfied
Smerdyakov - 2007
Saturday, November 24, 2012
She Gave It Away: The Rest of the Story
Semi-true story. Lisa, not Lara. And if her house was 50 feet west of where it sat, she'd probably be alive today. Her house was a skootch over the dividing line between two school districts. Fifty yards west and she attends Norman Rockwell-ian public schools in the same town where my prep school resided. But where it sat? Working class stoner high school (though its more meth-ish than stoner-ish nowadays).
So anyhow, on those lesser school holidays that typically didn't have a corresonding work holiday (Veteran's Day, Rosh Hashana, Presidents Day, Shavuot, etc) some of us would hang out at her BFF Vicky's house while her parents were at work, Liquor cabinets, truth or dare - you know, that sort of thing. So anyways, I'm over there with my friend Steve. Lisa brought another of her friends and they had been there a while before we got there. Mixing whatever cocktails fifteen year olds are able to conjur. Schnapps and 7-Up, Vodka and apple juice and gin, Jack Daniels and Dr. Pepper, whatever.
So we drank too. I'm sure you get the dynamic. Scholarship prep school kids and a couple of trashy girls who stole their dad's cigarettes and were still figuring out how to apply eyeliner correctly. Steve and Vicky and the other girl are off somewhere, I could hear laughing coming from the other room. I'm sitting with Lisa on the couch. Now to this point, she and I had messed around within the context of teenage games - Seven Minutes in Heaven, Spin the Bottle, that sort of thing. But I never thought of her as anything more than that. If I had seen her at the mall, her hanging out with her friends and me hanging out with mine, I wouldn't have even acknowledged her.
But there we were with my hand under her shirt but over her bra, and her mouth on my neck about to leave a very juvenile hickey.
And then she puts her lips against my ear and whispered two things; the first was very provocatively slutty (enough to startle a scared little shit like me) and the second was "Let's go upstairs".
We had clumsy sex on Vicky's parent's bed, with my shirt still on and pants around my ankles. I finished and said we better get back downstairs.
So that became and fairly regular thing. We'd be at some party, run into each other, then go upstairs and fuck. It happens less often when I started dating a girl from St. Catherine's, but she was still nice to have around. But then I started going to different parties than she did. I had heard that she started getting into (a different kind of) trouble.
She died of a heroin overdose when she was 31. I didn't find out about it until almost 3 years later. I ran into Steve at some airport. He had heard about it from someone else and only mentioned it to me in a passing "Hey, do you remember that slutty chick Lisa from high school?" sort of way.
And when I get just the right amount of drunk, I never fail to consider the question......
"What if I, at any point in our 'relationship' had asked her out on a proper date?"
So anyhow, on those lesser school holidays that typically didn't have a corresonding work holiday (Veteran's Day, Rosh Hashana, Presidents Day, Shavuot, etc) some of us would hang out at her BFF Vicky's house while her parents were at work, Liquor cabinets, truth or dare - you know, that sort of thing. So anyways, I'm over there with my friend Steve. Lisa brought another of her friends and they had been there a while before we got there. Mixing whatever cocktails fifteen year olds are able to conjur. Schnapps and 7-Up, Vodka and apple juice and gin, Jack Daniels and Dr. Pepper, whatever.
So we drank too. I'm sure you get the dynamic. Scholarship prep school kids and a couple of trashy girls who stole their dad's cigarettes and were still figuring out how to apply eyeliner correctly. Steve and Vicky and the other girl are off somewhere, I could hear laughing coming from the other room. I'm sitting with Lisa on the couch. Now to this point, she and I had messed around within the context of teenage games - Seven Minutes in Heaven, Spin the Bottle, that sort of thing. But I never thought of her as anything more than that. If I had seen her at the mall, her hanging out with her friends and me hanging out with mine, I wouldn't have even acknowledged her.
But there we were with my hand under her shirt but over her bra, and her mouth on my neck about to leave a very juvenile hickey.
And then she puts her lips against my ear and whispered two things; the first was very provocatively slutty (enough to startle a scared little shit like me) and the second was "Let's go upstairs".
We had clumsy sex on Vicky's parent's bed, with my shirt still on and pants around my ankles. I finished and said we better get back downstairs.
So that became and fairly regular thing. We'd be at some party, run into each other, then go upstairs and fuck. It happens less often when I started dating a girl from St. Catherine's, but she was still nice to have around. But then I started going to different parties than she did. I had heard that she started getting into (a different kind of) trouble.
She died of a heroin overdose when she was 31. I didn't find out about it until almost 3 years later. I ran into Steve at some airport. He had heard about it from someone else and only mentioned it to me in a passing "Hey, do you remember that slutty chick Lisa from high school?" sort of way.
And when I get just the right amount of drunk, I never fail to consider the question......
"What if I, at any point in our 'relationship' had asked her out on a proper date?"
Sunday, October 07, 2012
A New Scar in my Closet
I found a hole in my collar while ironing
in a shirt I've had forever
well,not quite "forever" forever
just "forever" given the lifespan of a typical shirt
fourteen years
She gave it to me the night before an interview
along with having my lucky shoes polished
she was so excited as I opened the Nordstrom's box
wanted me to hurry and try it on
she really wanted me to get that job
It had been in my regular rotaion ever since
so ofen that I almost don't think of her
every morning I put it on... almost
how many times would that be in 14 years?
Maybe 300 or so?
I suppose I could still wear it under a sweater
or under a blazer I don't plan on removing
But It will probably just hang in my closet
Causing me to reach for it once a month
before realizing it has a hole
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Happy Valentines Day
I was watching my dog watch her
Of course at that point I didn't know what he was watching
I woke up with my eyes oriented in his direction
He must have wandered back into my bedroom after... well, just after.
He was skeptical of her, but was playing it cautious
Laying in his bed in the corner
but ready to leap into action if the situation required it
I looked at him for another minute or so
before turning my gaze to her
She was still naked, running her fingers across my valet case
now just becoming aware of the layout of my bedroom
Becoming less confident than she was the night before
Going drink for drink with me, a complete stranger
an extra button undone on her blouse when I returned from the Men's
But she's was more girl than woman this morning
legitimately caught off guard when she saw me awake
quickly smiling and grabbing the pillow under my head
hugging it longwise against her chest
All of a sudden demure, shy, and reticent
"What's in here?" she asked, gesturing to the mahogany box
"Watches, cufflinks, stuff like that", I replied.
She carefully lifted the lid, curious to confirm.
Slowly thumbing through each compartment
Holding up a random item to examine, before returning it to it's place
"What are these?" now holding a small leather box
"Brass collar stays", I smile. "I despise rolly collars".
She opens the box and withdraws a mismatched pair
One slightly shorter than the other
She grows younger now, looking almost..well.... virginal
Of course at that point I didn't know what he was watching
I woke up with my eyes oriented in his direction
He must have wandered back into my bedroom after... well, just after.
He was skeptical of her, but was playing it cautious
Laying in his bed in the corner
but ready to leap into action if the situation required it
I looked at him for another minute or so
before turning my gaze to her
She was still naked, running her fingers across my valet case
now just becoming aware of the layout of my bedroom
Becoming less confident than she was the night before
Going drink for drink with me, a complete stranger
an extra button undone on her blouse when I returned from the Men's
But she's was more girl than woman this morning
legitimately caught off guard when she saw me awake
quickly smiling and grabbing the pillow under my head
hugging it longwise against her chest
All of a sudden demure, shy, and reticent
"What's in here?" she asked, gesturing to the mahogany box
"Watches, cufflinks, stuff like that", I replied.
She carefully lifted the lid, curious to confirm.
Slowly thumbing through each compartment
Holding up a random item to examine, before returning it to it's place
"What are these?" now holding a small leather box
"Brass collar stays", I smile. "I despise rolly collars".
She opens the box and withdraws a mismatched pair
One slightly shorter than the other
She grows younger now, looking almost..well.... virginal
Saturday, March 03, 2012
Bildungsroman
Full disclaimer - I'm thinking that this post is going to ramble a bit. May get a little lengthy so I can't guarantee I'm even going to finish it. I mean, I'm reasonably sure I know the point in the story that I'm going to start writing and I know the point where I plan on stopping (which implies, rightfully, that it has some prologue and some epilogue that I'm not going to get into right now), but I may lose focus at some point and just post whatever I have written at that point in time.
But here it goes.........
Whenever anybody asks about where I was on December 31st, 1999, I tell them that I rented a cabin in Amish country. No phones. No electricity. No comforts of modern life in anticipation of the impending apocalyptic effects of Y2K. Ok, not that many people ask. Just when it comes up in conversation.
Which is not often.
But I wasn't there.
I was fully aware that it was going to seem totally cliche to do it on December 28th. Exactly one year after (that's prologue, pay no attention to that). But that wasn't the only reason for picking that day. Sure, it was a big part of it but it wasn't just that. It just seemed liked the last few months had been leading to that horizon. That sunset.
I put a lot of thought into how I was going to do it. Well, not so much HOW but more about WHERE. Specifically, I was worried about who would find me. I didn't want to put any of my friends or family through that, seeing my bloated and/or bloody and/or rotting corpse. So I thought about just chaining barbells to my ankles and steeping off a boat in the middle of the ocean. Or shooting myself in the middle of the woods (assuming the critters would take care of the rest). But then I just thought that mightbe worse. Essentially just disappearing and everyone living the rest of their lives not knowing.
So I came to the conclusion that I'd have to do it in a hospital. Sure, it would suck for the unlucky doctor, nurse or orderly who found me, but its not like that wouldn't have seen a dead body before. But the flipside to that? It's a hospital. Filled with people trained to save the lives of people who did stupid stuff to themselves. Even if I walked into the emergency room and popped a cap in my dome, there would be a trauma surgeon 15 feet away just waiting to resuscitate me even before my body hit the ground. So I spent literally almost every waking hour from Thanksgiving to mid-December trying to figure out a way around these obstacles.
This is why I shouldn't be left alone with too much free time on my hands. I think too much.
But I figured it out.
I called a doctor friend and told her I had a sinus infection. She called me in a prescription for omoxicillin. I called he back a couple days later and asked her to switch the prescription over to penicillin because the omoxicillin was freaking me out (this becomes important later). Then I tossed my stationary bike in that back of my truck and drove (I didn't want to go to a local hospital - I know a lot of healthcare professionals and didn't want to run into one inadvertantly).
So I drive 2 entire states away. Find some not-quite-rural-not-quite-suburban town, pull into a convenience store, ate a microwaved burrito, thumb through the phone book, find the nearest hospital, drive over there, and park at the edge of the lot near a clump of trees (it's just about getting dark.
I drag the bike out of the back of the truck, plant it in the middle of the trees, then just start pedalling away at max resistance. 10 minutes. 30 minutes. 45 minutes, the lactic acid burning in my calves, sweat rolling off my brow. I made it an hour and 15 minutes before stumbling back into my car and driving over to the emergency room entrance.
I walk in clammy and clutching the lower right part of my abdomen.
So by the time they take my temperature and draw a blood sample, I'm running a decent fever and my white blood count is elevated (but not off the charts). They ask me to rate my pain. I say "7, sometimes 8". It didn't take House to diagnose acute appendicitis. It would definitely have to come out. But since it was getting late and the pain was manageable (and I had recently eaten), it could wait until the morning. So they admitted me and administered 500mg of omoxicillin.
They put me in a double room. That was bad. I really hadn't considered that possibility. With an older guy, mayble late 60's or early 70's, who had just broken his hip. It was close to 11:30PM by then. But he seemed pretty medicated and was 3/4th's asleep most of the time. So I just read The Heart of Darkness in my head to pass the time.
The nurse walked in about 1:30AM to change his IV and check on mine. I waited about 20 minutes after she left to get up, get my boots, trenchcoat and pants out of the plastic bag the ED nurse had packed them in, and pulled my IV into the bathroom. I sat on the toilet, unlaced my boots and withdrew the belts from my pants and coat. This is the only part I hadn't fully planned out because there was no way of knowing what the configuration of the room was going to be. I just assumed that I could loop one end of my McGyver'ed noose over the bathroom door onto the room-side doorknob, then tightened to other end around my neck. Then it would just be a matter of stepping off a stool. Badabing badaboom, problem solved. But the room-side doorknob was actually handle-shaped. When I quietly looped one end of my "noose" over it (careful as to not wake my roommate), re-closed the door, and gave the belt/shoelace/belt a little test tug, it slipped right off. That was a problem.
So I had to improvise. The bathroom-side doorknob was actually a doorknob-shaped doorknob. The only way I could make it work would be to open the door fully against the bathroom wall, loop the noose on the knob-side and hang myself in the bathroom with the door wide open. So I checked to make sure my roommate was still asleep, carried the stool over from the shower, tightened each end of my makeshift rope, and stepped up on the stool.
But it didn't seem high enough.
There was no way just "stepping off" was going to do the trick.
So I jumped up as high as I could.
It hurt like a son of a bitch.
Like a lightning bolt from the top of my head all the way down to my tailbone.
But my momentum pulled the door away from the wall and it was now only halfway open. So now I'm staring straight ahead directly at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, head askew and turning reddish-blue (or just purple, I guess). I also feel my toes barely touching the floor as my "rope" slowly stretches.
This isn't good.
But it gets worse.
Apparently my attempted leap to death has caused a bit of a ruckus. Enough of a ruckus, in fact, to wake my roommate from his painkiller-induced slumber. I look over just in time to see hime come to, gradually lift his head... and lock eyes with my own now-bulging eyes.
Needless to say, he freaks the fuck out.
So now I'M freaking out. I start to kick my legs up and down like a toddler throwing a tantrum trying to snap my vertabrae before he can push the call button to get a nurse to come a'running.
So to my left I have an old geezer frantically screaming and reaching for the alarm, and directly in front of me I have my own flailing reflection which, by now, I can barely make out because the capillaries in my eyes were beginning to burst.
It would have been hilarious if I had taken the time to fully appreciate the insanity of the moment.
But I didn't have the chance because I was busy slipping into unconsciousness.
I woke up several hours later in a different room (without a door) with a nurse or doctor checking in on me every 15 minutes and giving me looks of alternating pity and disgust. I just pretending to be confused and kept asking why I was there.
Dod you know that omoxicillin can, in rare circumstances, cause hallucinations? It's true. And since I had a recent (and spectacularly convenient) history of omoxicillin-induced psychotic episodes (confirmed by my doctor back home), I was able to convince the hospital psychatrist that the suicide attempt was a result of those hallucinations rather than my rather depressing prologue.
Unfortunately for me, the hospital (or maybe it was the entire state, I'm not sure) had a policy that you have to be held under observation for 72 hours after a suicide attempt. So I spent the day of New Years Eve 1999 playing euchre in the psych ward with a 19 year old bipolar girl and 2 generally mentally-disturbed middle-aged men (I was asleep at midnight because the hospital was pretty fascist about their "lights out at 10pm" policy - hardly seemed fair).
Good times. Good times.
But here it goes.........
Whenever anybody asks about where I was on December 31st, 1999, I tell them that I rented a cabin in Amish country. No phones. No electricity. No comforts of modern life in anticipation of the impending apocalyptic effects of Y2K. Ok, not that many people ask. Just when it comes up in conversation.
Which is not often.
But I wasn't there.
I was fully aware that it was going to seem totally cliche to do it on December 28th. Exactly one year after (that's prologue, pay no attention to that). But that wasn't the only reason for picking that day. Sure, it was a big part of it but it wasn't just that. It just seemed liked the last few months had been leading to that horizon. That sunset.
I put a lot of thought into how I was going to do it. Well, not so much HOW but more about WHERE. Specifically, I was worried about who would find me. I didn't want to put any of my friends or family through that, seeing my bloated and/or bloody and/or rotting corpse. So I thought about just chaining barbells to my ankles and steeping off a boat in the middle of the ocean. Or shooting myself in the middle of the woods (assuming the critters would take care of the rest). But then I just thought that mightbe worse. Essentially just disappearing and everyone living the rest of their lives not knowing.
So I came to the conclusion that I'd have to do it in a hospital. Sure, it would suck for the unlucky doctor, nurse or orderly who found me, but its not like that wouldn't have seen a dead body before. But the flipside to that? It's a hospital. Filled with people trained to save the lives of people who did stupid stuff to themselves. Even if I walked into the emergency room and popped a cap in my dome, there would be a trauma surgeon 15 feet away just waiting to resuscitate me even before my body hit the ground. So I spent literally almost every waking hour from Thanksgiving to mid-December trying to figure out a way around these obstacles.
This is why I shouldn't be left alone with too much free time on my hands. I think too much.
But I figured it out.
I called a doctor friend and told her I had a sinus infection. She called me in a prescription for omoxicillin. I called he back a couple days later and asked her to switch the prescription over to penicillin because the omoxicillin was freaking me out (this becomes important later). Then I tossed my stationary bike in that back of my truck and drove (I didn't want to go to a local hospital - I know a lot of healthcare professionals and didn't want to run into one inadvertantly).
So I drive 2 entire states away. Find some not-quite-rural-not-quite-suburban town, pull into a convenience store, ate a microwaved burrito, thumb through the phone book, find the nearest hospital, drive over there, and park at the edge of the lot near a clump of trees (it's just about getting dark.
I drag the bike out of the back of the truck, plant it in the middle of the trees, then just start pedalling away at max resistance. 10 minutes. 30 minutes. 45 minutes, the lactic acid burning in my calves, sweat rolling off my brow. I made it an hour and 15 minutes before stumbling back into my car and driving over to the emergency room entrance.
I walk in clammy and clutching the lower right part of my abdomen.
So by the time they take my temperature and draw a blood sample, I'm running a decent fever and my white blood count is elevated (but not off the charts). They ask me to rate my pain. I say "7, sometimes 8". It didn't take House to diagnose acute appendicitis. It would definitely have to come out. But since it was getting late and the pain was manageable (and I had recently eaten), it could wait until the morning. So they admitted me and administered 500mg of omoxicillin.
They put me in a double room. That was bad. I really hadn't considered that possibility. With an older guy, mayble late 60's or early 70's, who had just broken his hip. It was close to 11:30PM by then. But he seemed pretty medicated and was 3/4th's asleep most of the time. So I just read The Heart of Darkness in my head to pass the time.
The nurse walked in about 1:30AM to change his IV and check on mine. I waited about 20 minutes after she left to get up, get my boots, trenchcoat and pants out of the plastic bag the ED nurse had packed them in, and pulled my IV into the bathroom. I sat on the toilet, unlaced my boots and withdrew the belts from my pants and coat. This is the only part I hadn't fully planned out because there was no way of knowing what the configuration of the room was going to be. I just assumed that I could loop one end of my McGyver'ed noose over the bathroom door onto the room-side doorknob, then tightened to other end around my neck. Then it would just be a matter of stepping off a stool. Badabing badaboom, problem solved. But the room-side doorknob was actually handle-shaped. When I quietly looped one end of my "noose" over it (careful as to not wake my roommate), re-closed the door, and gave the belt/shoelace/belt a little test tug, it slipped right off. That was a problem.
So I had to improvise. The bathroom-side doorknob was actually a doorknob-shaped doorknob. The only way I could make it work would be to open the door fully against the bathroom wall, loop the noose on the knob-side and hang myself in the bathroom with the door wide open. So I checked to make sure my roommate was still asleep, carried the stool over from the shower, tightened each end of my makeshift rope, and stepped up on the stool.
But it didn't seem high enough.
There was no way just "stepping off" was going to do the trick.
So I jumped up as high as I could.
It hurt like a son of a bitch.
Like a lightning bolt from the top of my head all the way down to my tailbone.
But my momentum pulled the door away from the wall and it was now only halfway open. So now I'm staring straight ahead directly at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, head askew and turning reddish-blue (or just purple, I guess). I also feel my toes barely touching the floor as my "rope" slowly stretches.
This isn't good.
But it gets worse.
Apparently my attempted leap to death has caused a bit of a ruckus. Enough of a ruckus, in fact, to wake my roommate from his painkiller-induced slumber. I look over just in time to see hime come to, gradually lift his head... and lock eyes with my own now-bulging eyes.
Needless to say, he freaks the fuck out.
So now I'M freaking out. I start to kick my legs up and down like a toddler throwing a tantrum trying to snap my vertabrae before he can push the call button to get a nurse to come a'running.
So to my left I have an old geezer frantically screaming and reaching for the alarm, and directly in front of me I have my own flailing reflection which, by now, I can barely make out because the capillaries in my eyes were beginning to burst.
It would have been hilarious if I had taken the time to fully appreciate the insanity of the moment.
But I didn't have the chance because I was busy slipping into unconsciousness.
I woke up several hours later in a different room (without a door) with a nurse or doctor checking in on me every 15 minutes and giving me looks of alternating pity and disgust. I just pretending to be confused and kept asking why I was there.
Dod you know that omoxicillin can, in rare circumstances, cause hallucinations? It's true. And since I had a recent (and spectacularly convenient) history of omoxicillin-induced psychotic episodes (confirmed by my doctor back home), I was able to convince the hospital psychatrist that the suicide attempt was a result of those hallucinations rather than my rather depressing prologue.
Unfortunately for me, the hospital (or maybe it was the entire state, I'm not sure) had a policy that you have to be held under observation for 72 hours after a suicide attempt. So I spent the day of New Years Eve 1999 playing euchre in the psych ward with a 19 year old bipolar girl and 2 generally mentally-disturbed middle-aged men (I was asleep at midnight because the hospital was pretty fascist about their "lights out at 10pm" policy - hardly seemed fair).
Good times. Good times.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Sunday, December 04, 2011
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Husband, pick-up truck, kiss
Normally I would write this in some dime-store poetic/esoteric fashion, maybe via a seemingly random list of things (insert 3 of the following - brand name liquor, popular late '80's girls name, lipstick color, mid-selling fiction author, female recording artist, hotel chain), but I'm currently incapable of drawing a plausible analogy. So here's the deal;
I had the same dream 3 times 5 years apart. Ok, not necessarily the "same" dream. More like a very similar version with the same themes. Different locations, characters and backstories, but the same general storyline: I meet the husband of a current female co-worker for the first time, I end up in a pick-up truck with said female co-worker, we have a moment and end up kissing. Not "consumed in a moment of hunger and passion" kissing, but more like "neither of us knows if this is right or wrong, we've definitely crossed a line we can't uncross but we also don't know if it will ever be anything more than that kiss" kissing. And it's not necessarily a random female co-worker. ll of them have been married. All of them have the same general body type: slender, semi-boyish, straight shiny hair, late 20's-to-early 30's. But they have different characteristics as well; ethnicities, reporting relationships, personality types. We just end up in a pickup truck and tenderly kiss, hesitant and impulsive at first, turning into mutual want, her right hand on the back of my neck and my right hand on her cheek/neck.
And it's not like I had any inkling of a romantic relationship with any of these women in real life.
I have nothing more to offer.
Click here for the audio version
I had the same dream 3 times 5 years apart. Ok, not necessarily the "same" dream. More like a very similar version with the same themes. Different locations, characters and backstories, but the same general storyline: I meet the husband of a current female co-worker for the first time, I end up in a pick-up truck with said female co-worker, we have a moment and end up kissing. Not "consumed in a moment of hunger and passion" kissing, but more like "neither of us knows if this is right or wrong, we've definitely crossed a line we can't uncross but we also don't know if it will ever be anything more than that kiss" kissing. And it's not necessarily a random female co-worker. ll of them have been married. All of them have the same general body type: slender, semi-boyish, straight shiny hair, late 20's-to-early 30's. But they have different characteristics as well; ethnicities, reporting relationships, personality types. We just end up in a pickup truck and tenderly kiss, hesitant and impulsive at first, turning into mutual want, her right hand on the back of my neck and my right hand on her cheek/neck.
And it's not like I had any inkling of a romantic relationship with any of these women in real life.
I have nothing more to offer.
Click here for the audio version
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Oh, The Places You'll Go (An Very Un-Suessian Tale)
Between dinner & dessert behind Shooters in Orlando
Amtrak lavatory between Pittsburgh & Newark
My cousin's dorm room at CU
The world's nastiest motel room at the world's nastiest Travelodge in DC
An under-construction beach house in Isle of Palms
Parking garage stairwell behind The Quaff in Kansas City
The Bachelors Suite overlooking Lake Michigan at The Drake
Storage closet in the basement of a college rec center
Rental car outside a concert in Tinley Park
Laundromat bathroom in Virginia Beach
Party van coming back from a wedding in Naples
A very cold creek that ran behind my house
Amtrak lavatory between Pittsburgh & Newark
My cousin's dorm room at CU
The world's nastiest motel room at the world's nastiest Travelodge in DC
An under-construction beach house in Isle of Palms
Parking garage stairwell behind The Quaff in Kansas City
The Bachelors Suite overlooking Lake Michigan at The Drake
Storage closet in the basement of a college rec center
Rental car outside a concert in Tinley Park
Laundromat bathroom in Virginia Beach
Party van coming back from a wedding in Naples
A very cold creek that ran behind my house
Thursday, July 21, 2011
The Smerdyakov Pickup
You don't have to be good-looking or funny or smart or obviously wealthy to pick up a woman in a bar. Living proof right here.
Get there about 7. Early enough to find two empty stools at the bar. Sit down in one and place your blazer over the back of the other. It's not necessarily required that you do this while on a business trip, but it's what seems to work for me.
Then order a drink and ask for two menus. Scan the menu, check your watch, fiddle with your shirt buttons (top button unfastened... no, better keep in buttoned), check your phone to see if you missed any calls, glance toward the door every time someone enters.
Things will start to get busy. The bar will start to fill up.
Eventually, someone will ask if the seat next to you is taken. Maybe its a man. Maybe its a woman. Doesn't matter. Just apologize and tell them you're waiting for someone.
Order another drink. Maybe 30-45 minutes have passed by now. Check your watch a little more frequently. Another beer. Then order an appetizer. Look at your phone again. Pretend to leave someone a pathetic voicemail ("Hey, just checking to make sure I heard you right - 7PM at The Charterhouse. Please give me a call when you get this.... oh, and if you're on your way, let me know and I can order for you so you don't have to wait. I was running late anyways, just got here. Ok?"). Another drink.
She'll have started paying attention by now. She will self-select.
She'll probably be with a group of friends. All of them will be sneaking glances and whispering back and forth, but she'll be the one with the look of empathy and concern. Do NOT make eye contact. You're just focusing on who is NOT there rather than who is.
She will ask if the seat next to you is open. Pause before answering. Look towards the door. Check your phone again. Exhale barely audibly, remove your blazer from the stool and say "yeah, I guess it is".
Immediately summon the bartender and order another beer. This is when you stop glancing towards the door and looking at your watch. You will feel her looking at you.
She'll eventually break the ice, saying something like "Maybe she's just running late" or "Don't feel bad. We've all been stood up before" or "She must be an idiot". Flash a quick smile, a little laugh at most.
Say something self-deprecating.
By now, the following thought will have already crossed her mind;
"This will be such a cute story to tell people about how we met - he was stood up by his date, we started talking, hit it off".
Much cuter than "we met in a bar on a Thursday night".
After a few minutes, ask her to save your seat while you go to the men's room. Don't refer it it by anything other than that; the men's room. Not "the little boys room". Not "the head". Not "the bathroom".
The men's room.
Take a couple steps towards the men's room, pause for a second, then turn around to ask her, "hey, if you see a redhead, about 5'8" walk in, can you please tell her I'll be right back?".
Pathetic.
You'll come back. She will have saved your seat. Don't sit down though. Reach for your jacket, thank her, and tell her that you're gonna take off. She'll grab your arm and ask you to stay, maybe just have one more drink. Her treat.
Slowly open up. Share a joke. Let her cheer you up. She'll say something bad about the girl who stood you up. You say,"No, no, no. It's no big deal. I'm over it".
That's it. Yours. Without fail.
Get there about 7. Early enough to find two empty stools at the bar. Sit down in one and place your blazer over the back of the other. It's not necessarily required that you do this while on a business trip, but it's what seems to work for me.
Then order a drink and ask for two menus. Scan the menu, check your watch, fiddle with your shirt buttons (top button unfastened... no, better keep in buttoned), check your phone to see if you missed any calls, glance toward the door every time someone enters.
Things will start to get busy. The bar will start to fill up.
Eventually, someone will ask if the seat next to you is taken. Maybe its a man. Maybe its a woman. Doesn't matter. Just apologize and tell them you're waiting for someone.
Order another drink. Maybe 30-45 minutes have passed by now. Check your watch a little more frequently. Another beer. Then order an appetizer. Look at your phone again. Pretend to leave someone a pathetic voicemail ("Hey, just checking to make sure I heard you right - 7PM at The Charterhouse. Please give me a call when you get this.... oh, and if you're on your way, let me know and I can order for you so you don't have to wait. I was running late anyways, just got here. Ok?"). Another drink.
She'll have started paying attention by now. She will self-select.
She'll probably be with a group of friends. All of them will be sneaking glances and whispering back and forth, but she'll be the one with the look of empathy and concern. Do NOT make eye contact. You're just focusing on who is NOT there rather than who is.
She will ask if the seat next to you is open. Pause before answering. Look towards the door. Check your phone again. Exhale barely audibly, remove your blazer from the stool and say "yeah, I guess it is".
Immediately summon the bartender and order another beer. This is when you stop glancing towards the door and looking at your watch. You will feel her looking at you.
She'll eventually break the ice, saying something like "Maybe she's just running late" or "Don't feel bad. We've all been stood up before" or "She must be an idiot". Flash a quick smile, a little laugh at most.
Say something self-deprecating.
By now, the following thought will have already crossed her mind;
"This will be such a cute story to tell people about how we met - he was stood up by his date, we started talking, hit it off".
Much cuter than "we met in a bar on a Thursday night".
After a few minutes, ask her to save your seat while you go to the men's room. Don't refer it it by anything other than that; the men's room. Not "the little boys room". Not "the head". Not "the bathroom".
The men's room.
Take a couple steps towards the men's room, pause for a second, then turn around to ask her, "hey, if you see a redhead, about 5'8" walk in, can you please tell her I'll be right back?".
Pathetic.
You'll come back. She will have saved your seat. Don't sit down though. Reach for your jacket, thank her, and tell her that you're gonna take off. She'll grab your arm and ask you to stay, maybe just have one more drink. Her treat.
Slowly open up. Share a joke. Let her cheer you up. She'll say something bad about the girl who stood you up. You say,"No, no, no. It's no big deal. I'm over it".
That's it. Yours. Without fail.
Wednesday, June 01, 2011
Saturday, April 02, 2011
Hometown
See that junior high over there?
2nd floor, 3rd classroom from the left?
That's where Mrs. Nax kept me after school
So the social workers could talk to me
voices of concern, pity and uncertainty
And the grocery store down the street?
I used the men's room to clean myself off
on the way to my girlfriend's house
after I visited with Dana Chapman
reeking of sex, Organza and pride
That chinese restaurant used to be a Denny's
halfway between the bars and home
3AM Moons over My Hammy & coffee
before the days we designated a driver
wrecking Barb's car, Barb's leg and Barb
And that little shitbox motel right there?
you'd think it used to be cute & cozy
but its been rundown since the day it was built
I tried to drink myself to death in Room 26
surrounded by bottles, vomit and photographs
That housing development used to be woods
dark, secluded & perfect for two 17 yr old kids
fumbling with belts & zippers & bra straps
unknowingly making a baby, never to be born
costing me $300, a day of school & a friend
She knew she could never live anywhere near here
Addresses all belonging to someone else & me
Not a single place that could be truly ours
She smelled every sin as we drove down South Ave
warm and intrusive, like a strangers breath
2nd floor, 3rd classroom from the left?
That's where Mrs. Nax kept me after school
So the social workers could talk to me
voices of concern, pity and uncertainty
And the grocery store down the street?
I used the men's room to clean myself off
on the way to my girlfriend's house
after I visited with Dana Chapman
reeking of sex, Organza and pride
That chinese restaurant used to be a Denny's
halfway between the bars and home
3AM Moons over My Hammy & coffee
before the days we designated a driver
wrecking Barb's car, Barb's leg and Barb
And that little shitbox motel right there?
you'd think it used to be cute & cozy
but its been rundown since the day it was built
I tried to drink myself to death in Room 26
surrounded by bottles, vomit and photographs
That housing development used to be woods
dark, secluded & perfect for two 17 yr old kids
fumbling with belts & zippers & bra straps
unknowingly making a baby, never to be born
costing me $300, a day of school & a friend
She knew she could never live anywhere near here
Addresses all belonging to someone else & me
Not a single place that could be truly ours
She smelled every sin as we drove down South Ave
warm and intrusive, like a strangers breath
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Dumped for Galifianakis
I did my undergrad at Northwestern
finished my Masters at Cornell
Eleven point nine Q on my MCAT
but she dumped me for Galifianakis
Completed a 1/2 triathlon at Sarasota
in a shade under six hours
Starting scrum half for the Oneida FC
she still dumped me for Galifianakis
Junior Achievement, Red Cross, ASPCA
passed out blankets to the homeless
I run a rescue shelter for greyhounds
Got dumped for Galifianakis anyhow
I surprised her on her 25th birthday
flew her sister in from New Zealand
bought her a signed 1st edition Lagerlof
Yeah, dumped for Galifianakis
I live in an 19th century firehouse
restored with my own sweat & two hands
the firepole just where she liked it
The bitch dumped me for Galifianakis
I would keep her going for hours
breathless, bordering on unconscious
regardless of my own carnal needs
but now she's banging Galifianakis
finished my Masters at Cornell
Eleven point nine Q on my MCAT
but she dumped me for Galifianakis
Completed a 1/2 triathlon at Sarasota
in a shade under six hours
Starting scrum half for the Oneida FC
she still dumped me for Galifianakis
Junior Achievement, Red Cross, ASPCA
passed out blankets to the homeless
I run a rescue shelter for greyhounds
Got dumped for Galifianakis anyhow
I surprised her on her 25th birthday
flew her sister in from New Zealand
bought her a signed 1st edition Lagerlof
Yeah, dumped for Galifianakis
I live in an 19th century firehouse
restored with my own sweat & two hands
the firepole just where she liked it
The bitch dumped me for Galifianakis
I would keep her going for hours
breathless, bordering on unconscious
regardless of my own carnal needs
but now she's banging Galifianakis
Thursday, March 13, 2008
She
Shi has always been my closest companion
my confidante, my lover, my judge
touching the lives of the people around me
her hand so close to grazing my own
I can feel the warmth of her fingertips
Shi whispers her name in my ear as I sleep
I'm unsure if it's a tease or a prophecy
uncertain if I want her to lay down beside me
taking me in her willowy arms
embracing me as the candle slowly burns
Shi comes and goes as she pleases
but never quite leaving me alone
reminders of her presence litter my room
a murder of crows, a salt-pepper ram
keep me company until shi returns
Shi promises me comfort & redemption
alluring in her matte black dress and veil
a vision of fate and relentless certainty
her broken watch oddly out of place
but still keeping perfect time
Shi goes days without a single word
then blusters on for weeks on end
"hominem te esse memento" & "memento mori"
repeated until I hear them in my sleep
never knowing if she'll be there when I wake
my confidante, my lover, my judge
touching the lives of the people around me
her hand so close to grazing my own
I can feel the warmth of her fingertips
Shi whispers her name in my ear as I sleep
I'm unsure if it's a tease or a prophecy
uncertain if I want her to lay down beside me
taking me in her willowy arms
embracing me as the candle slowly burns
Shi comes and goes as she pleases
but never quite leaving me alone
reminders of her presence litter my room
a murder of crows, a salt-pepper ram
keep me company until shi returns
Shi promises me comfort & redemption
alluring in her matte black dress and veil
a vision of fate and relentless certainty
her broken watch oddly out of place
but still keeping perfect time
Shi goes days without a single word
then blusters on for weeks on end
"hominem te esse memento" & "memento mori"
repeated until I hear them in my sleep
never knowing if she'll be there when I wake
Sunday, March 02, 2008
Show Me Where It Hurts
I was going through some boxes and I came across and old gig case for a guitar I no longer own. It was just folded up inside along with a few zippos and 18" x 12" unframed canvas painting. The initials "R.J" scripted neatly at the bottom right in black oil.
Regina J. was an art student I dated a long time ago. A million years ago, it seems like. She had this exquisite tattoo on her shoulder of Alice gazing through a looking glass to see herself reflected as the Queen of Hearts. She sculpted mostly. Industrial stuff - definitely not marketable to anyone mainstream. But she didn't give a shit.
We dated for a few months. Actually, "dated" would be a rather generous term. We fought some. A lot. About politics, about movies, about art, about other men or women. We would literally scream at each other at the top of our lungs while our faces were inches apart. But it would only be a matter of time before I'd grab her by her hair or she'd shove me against a wall.
Needless to say, it was a fairly frenzied couple of months.
Anyway, I unzipped the guitar case and found a sheet of spiral notebook paper with a song I'd written for her. It was from my early "three chords of crap" period. Not quite power-ballad, not quite bubblegum punk. Just self-important bullshit.
But I humbly present to you "Show Me Where It Hurts". For Regina.
Regina J. was an art student I dated a long time ago. A million years ago, it seems like. She had this exquisite tattoo on her shoulder of Alice gazing through a looking glass to see herself reflected as the Queen of Hearts. She sculpted mostly. Industrial stuff - definitely not marketable to anyone mainstream. But she didn't give a shit.
We dated for a few months. Actually, "dated" would be a rather generous term. We fought some. A lot. About politics, about movies, about art, about other men or women. We would literally scream at each other at the top of our lungs while our faces were inches apart. But it would only be a matter of time before I'd grab her by her hair or she'd shove me against a wall.
Needless to say, it was a fairly frenzied couple of months.
Anyway, I unzipped the guitar case and found a sheet of spiral notebook paper with a song I'd written for her. It was from my early "three chords of crap" period. Not quite power-ballad, not quite bubblegum punk. Just self-important bullshit.
But I humbly present to you "Show Me Where It Hurts". For Regina.
Don't hide behind that bandage
Can't numb it with that pill
I feel a little greedy
but I promise I won't kill
***
Take your finger off the trigger
I'll take my hands off your throat
Who are you trying to fool?
I read your suicide note
***
(chorus)
Show me where it hurts
tell me where it bleeds
let's take off all our clothes
and find out where it leads
tell me where it bleeds
let's take off all our clothes
and find out where it leads
***
Don't you like it when I scratch?
Do you like it when bite?
candle wax and razor blades
I love it when you fight
***
***
(repeat chorus)
***
Let's get you in the shower
and wash off all that pain
some of yours & some of mine
half-naked in the rain
***
(repeat chorus)
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