How sweet
How beautiful
How passionate
I want you now!
How generous
How patient
How forgiving
How warm
Please take me!
How charming
How open
How sexy
How coy
How accessible
I'm yours!
You are fear!
Friday, September 25, 2009
Friday, September 18, 2009
This Path Looks Safe, I Think
Do you ever talk to yourself; I mean really get into a fantastic Q & A, alone? Where do you do it most? Is it in the shower? Is it at work? Maybe it's at school? Perhaps you're a lunatic and it’s in a dark alley or a deserted field, that's ok, things have to get resolved, right? Do you do it while driving? That's my favorite. Maybe you've got a penchant for straight jackets so talking to yourself on a busy subway gets you going.
What a gift it is, to be able to free think, verbalize and hash things out, all on your own; to preside over a beautiful summation and its rebuttal, having never left your own head. Of course every positive in life has to have a negative to balance things out, right? That's not my law, I believe it belongs to Ishkabibble Van Dudenhoffer, or was it Shnootikus Blitzstein?
Anyway, so what is the balancing downside to tinkering with self cross examination? Well, one issue is, ‘over thinking’. I'll admit I’m way guilty of this one. You can give me potential plans for a Friday night and I can conjure up some serious full on night destroying ass-umption.
Take for instance a simple night out for me and the wife. Seriously, its funny how I can painfully pick out clothes to wear, wonder what they’re going to have to eat at the party, complain a bit about the directions, hate the company when we get there, not like any of the food or drink, probably get a stomach ache, certainly hate the music, listen to boring stories, feel guilty for wanting to leave early, start an argument on the way home, suffer through a bowl of cereal to thwart off empty stomach nausea, and then go to sleep in the hopes of not throwing up. All of this done before my wife has even finished telling me where we are going. Over thinking? I’d call it a classic case.
Now what's even scarier than over thinking is what I have found riding on its coat tails, that is, ‘over analyzing’. This monster gives finality to the former, making it twice as dangerous. I'm not guilty of this one too, am I? Well let’s just see.
If I was lucky enough to get a comment about this latest babble I'd probably picture you in my mind, imagine the face you were making while typing your criticisms, decrypt your choice of word structure, take into consideration our latest communication with one another (if any), check the current weather conditions in the Gaza strip, gather up all the thousand leggers in a four block radius, and finally, I’d conceptualize about why I had what I had for dinner that evening.
Then, and only then, could I formulate a less than stellar synopsis of the remarks contributed thereby drawing up the conclusion that you probably didn't think too much of my overly wordy self deprecating autobiographical composition. Nobody is perfect! So I analyze a little, its good for the soul.
Now as if the first two character flaws weren’t enough, there is another. I can't tell you the countless good times missed over the years to this third and most horrid characteristic. This one should probably be listed first though; I'm quite certain over thinking and over analyzing are the bastard children of this debilitating trait. I’m talking about ‘fear’.
Seriously though, what are we afraid of? Is it embarrassment? Is it pain? Might it be failure? Perhaps it's a small group of clergy who lock dance. I don’t know, maybe you are afraid of any and all of the clothing from the 80's. I know to this day I drop to the ground at the site of a knee length Champion sweatshirt and over sized socks.
What about Olympic curling? How about a Deli clerk with six hundred piercings from the neck up? Here's a frightful thought- being chased by six Haitian prostitutes with live chickens. That'll get you every time. Not to mention the large woman with a hair net, visible thong, and a 5 o'clock shadow who is piecing together your Taco Bell order with no gloves on and a scorching case of the ass itches.
Now For me, I’m usually afraid of embarrassment caused by failure. I get it honestly from both parents. My mother is extremely vain and I suffered many a grocery store woopens for embarrassing her. It’s funny though how her wreckin' my backside in public was never as embarrassing as me acting like a normal five year old that desperately needed a Zagnut bar to get through the rigors of the long day ahead. Shoot, I used to receive the leather strap every time dear ole mom couldn't get her ultra teased, hair sprayed, locks to behave properly.
Now there’s dad, he’s a different story. His insecurities are a little trickier and can go pretty deep. So at the risk of ending up on a couch, with a grocery store list of medication needed to function in my daily life, I’ll pass on the lengthy dissertation and simply tell you that he’s not from this planet.
Thinking back, growing up in my house really didn’t do much for my confidence. Therefore it kept me from taking part in activities that should have been allowed to aid in the shaping of the man-child who types before you this day.
Now don’t get me wrong, I love my parents dearly and I would never blame them for my short comings. I will say this though, they set me on a path that’s been more like a dirt road than a freshly paved thoroughfare; somewhat cobblestone-ish, if I’m being totally honest.
I understand that we all have our choices to make on the paths that lead us through life. It just so happens that my path has OVER THINKING, OVER ANALYZING and FEAR; a few stepping stones that may or may not have been laid by the devil himself; or perhaps his servants. (Tongue firmly placed against cheek)
What a gift it is, to be able to free think, verbalize and hash things out, all on your own; to preside over a beautiful summation and its rebuttal, having never left your own head. Of course every positive in life has to have a negative to balance things out, right? That's not my law, I believe it belongs to Ishkabibble Van Dudenhoffer, or was it Shnootikus Blitzstein?
Anyway, so what is the balancing downside to tinkering with self cross examination? Well, one issue is, ‘over thinking’. I'll admit I’m way guilty of this one. You can give me potential plans for a Friday night and I can conjure up some serious full on night destroying ass-umption.
Take for instance a simple night out for me and the wife. Seriously, its funny how I can painfully pick out clothes to wear, wonder what they’re going to have to eat at the party, complain a bit about the directions, hate the company when we get there, not like any of the food or drink, probably get a stomach ache, certainly hate the music, listen to boring stories, feel guilty for wanting to leave early, start an argument on the way home, suffer through a bowl of cereal to thwart off empty stomach nausea, and then go to sleep in the hopes of not throwing up. All of this done before my wife has even finished telling me where we are going. Over thinking? I’d call it a classic case.
Now what's even scarier than over thinking is what I have found riding on its coat tails, that is, ‘over analyzing’. This monster gives finality to the former, making it twice as dangerous. I'm not guilty of this one too, am I? Well let’s just see.
If I was lucky enough to get a comment about this latest babble I'd probably picture you in my mind, imagine the face you were making while typing your criticisms, decrypt your choice of word structure, take into consideration our latest communication with one another (if any), check the current weather conditions in the Gaza strip, gather up all the thousand leggers in a four block radius, and finally, I’d conceptualize about why I had what I had for dinner that evening.
Then, and only then, could I formulate a less than stellar synopsis of the remarks contributed thereby drawing up the conclusion that you probably didn't think too much of my overly wordy self deprecating autobiographical composition. Nobody is perfect! So I analyze a little, its good for the soul.
Now as if the first two character flaws weren’t enough, there is another. I can't tell you the countless good times missed over the years to this third and most horrid characteristic. This one should probably be listed first though; I'm quite certain over thinking and over analyzing are the bastard children of this debilitating trait. I’m talking about ‘fear’.
Seriously though, what are we afraid of? Is it embarrassment? Is it pain? Might it be failure? Perhaps it's a small group of clergy who lock dance. I don’t know, maybe you are afraid of any and all of the clothing from the 80's. I know to this day I drop to the ground at the site of a knee length Champion sweatshirt and over sized socks.
What about Olympic curling? How about a Deli clerk with six hundred piercings from the neck up? Here's a frightful thought- being chased by six Haitian prostitutes with live chickens. That'll get you every time. Not to mention the large woman with a hair net, visible thong, and a 5 o'clock shadow who is piecing together your Taco Bell order with no gloves on and a scorching case of the ass itches.
Now For me, I’m usually afraid of embarrassment caused by failure. I get it honestly from both parents. My mother is extremely vain and I suffered many a grocery store woopens for embarrassing her. It’s funny though how her wreckin' my backside in public was never as embarrassing as me acting like a normal five year old that desperately needed a Zagnut bar to get through the rigors of the long day ahead. Shoot, I used to receive the leather strap every time dear ole mom couldn't get her ultra teased, hair sprayed, locks to behave properly.
Now there’s dad, he’s a different story. His insecurities are a little trickier and can go pretty deep. So at the risk of ending up on a couch, with a grocery store list of medication needed to function in my daily life, I’ll pass on the lengthy dissertation and simply tell you that he’s not from this planet.
Thinking back, growing up in my house really didn’t do much for my confidence. Therefore it kept me from taking part in activities that should have been allowed to aid in the shaping of the man-child who types before you this day.
Now don’t get me wrong, I love my parents dearly and I would never blame them for my short comings. I will say this though, they set me on a path that’s been more like a dirt road than a freshly paved thoroughfare; somewhat cobblestone-ish, if I’m being totally honest.
I understand that we all have our choices to make on the paths that lead us through life. It just so happens that my path has OVER THINKING, OVER ANALYZING and FEAR; a few stepping stones that may or may not have been laid by the devil himself; or perhaps his servants. (Tongue firmly placed against cheek)
Saturday, September 12, 2009
The Enraged Crusader
Anger management, me? I hear that malarkey all the time but I'm not buyin'. Abusive thoughts maybe, I can accept that. Can I help it if when people do stupid things I'm called into action. I feel folks nowadays need a little discipline and mandatory reflection. A wake up call so to speak.
There is nothing wrong with a punishing stare every now and then; an imagined blast to the solar plexus is warranted from time to time; a visualized kick to the groin, knee to the chin, can be the all correcting, don't you think?
Now don't get me wrong I'm not one to glorify violent behavior but I am one who likes to see justice served, karma personified if you will. Lets face it, there are a lot of nimrods buzzing around out there who would not be concerned with others feelings.
Now, being one who likes to seek the positive in a situation, what I like to do when anger does present itself is to act introspectively. What I have found, in doing so, is a switch. It hides in that hostility that emerges from time to time. It really is amazing, amazing to catch yourself right at that moment when rage is born. If you pay close attention you can actually hear a click as that switch is being thrown.
You know that moment; when your larynx gives birth to an idiotic remark, nurtures it, grows it and sends it rolling off your tongue, usually in the direction of a loved one ; when the thought of inflicting pain makes sense ; when a dream of wielding a large blunt object quiets the voices ; when the illusion of tossing someone off an overpass seems logical ; when the idea of purchasing stabbing weapons makes you giggle maniacally. Anyway, you know the moment. We all share it on some level. Some of us just act on it with stronger emotions and with less control.
Let me give an example of my ramblings. Recently I was heading into a CVS and I did something you only read about in books nowadays, I held the door for someone. Big mistake! This arrogant chic strolled right past me with not so much as a head nod of gratitude. Now I don't normally fish for graciousness but COME ON! The kicker was that she continued to make auditory love to her cell phone at volumes unnecessary.
Mercury began rising! I HEARD THE CLICK! What are my options here? Do I forgive? Do I forget? Do I destroy? My processor started flickerin' and clickin' and what I came up with was a low resonating growl accompanied by a, YOU'RE WELCOME! "Oh aaaaa, thank you?" She said. She was surprised, can you believe it? Now I had to follow the unappreciative heathen into the store. It was all I could do not to gather this chick by the belt and collar and launch her head first into the Entenmann's display. Is that wrong? Am I out of line in my thinking?
How about when I let someone into my lane on the highway and they don't show me my thank you wave. Should I not visualize dropping the hammer and ramming them in an attempt to induce a sixty-five mile an hour cartwheel? No you say? Is gnawing ferociously on the steering wheel while doing my best Tickle me Elmo impersonation a bit much? How about wanting to reenact the disembowelment scene from Braveheart on a texting tailgater; is that a little incessant? Next you're gonna tell me that following someone into their neighborhood after they've cut me off is a bad thing. Is it? Lets not even talk about food shoppers who are unnecessarily nasty to cashier clerks. These pompous assholes deserve to be strapped to a shopping cart and sent hurling form the nearest rocky cliff only to plunge some thousand feet down to a fiery pit below. That would be ok, right?
Alright, enough of that........deep breath. What I'm figuring out, when I can silence the terror from within, is that people are generally not very friendly these days and could use a little jolt of reality. (The Deliverer, why not be me!) Besides, this self indulgent egotistical preoccupation with one's gadgets, wealth, and appearance is winning out over genuine concern for one another's well being and its scary. I ask you.......Do I need anger management??? Ok, maybe just a class or two.
A few years ago a progressive chick worked with me and she once said "people are becoming so self involved it's frightening, I'm going to get away from it all soon and my girlfriend and I are going to live in a yurt out west." I didn't think much of it then cuz she was always talking whacked stuff about people and the environment and the end of it all, but a light went on later that day, WHAT THE FUCK IS A YURT???!!! With much thanks to Google I found out It's a "portable, felt-covered, wood lattice-framed dwelling structure traditionally used by nomads in the steppes of Central Asia." Ok! That's gonna go over well three months deep into a harsh winter.
Anyway, that's what I thought then, but now I'm starting to think she might have been right. Just think, getting away from all the mindless gadgetry and the impersonal soullessness that walks the streets today, sounds great?
Nah,my powers are needed here. There are lots of wrong doers out there who need my ever guiding scowl of animosity and my punitive imagination to inject new life into their thoughtless souls. All I need now is a uniform, a commissioner, a signal light and a good lawyer, for I have always been and will always be an admirable councilor of cultivated behavior. Anger management?...........Heh!
There is nothing wrong with a punishing stare every now and then; an imagined blast to the solar plexus is warranted from time to time; a visualized kick to the groin, knee to the chin, can be the all correcting, don't you think?
Now don't get me wrong I'm not one to glorify violent behavior but I am one who likes to see justice served, karma personified if you will. Lets face it, there are a lot of nimrods buzzing around out there who would not be concerned with others feelings.
Now, being one who likes to seek the positive in a situation, what I like to do when anger does present itself is to act introspectively. What I have found, in doing so, is a switch. It hides in that hostility that emerges from time to time. It really is amazing, amazing to catch yourself right at that moment when rage is born. If you pay close attention you can actually hear a click as that switch is being thrown.
You know that moment; when your larynx gives birth to an idiotic remark, nurtures it, grows it and sends it rolling off your tongue, usually in the direction of a loved one ; when the thought of inflicting pain makes sense ; when a dream of wielding a large blunt object quiets the voices ; when the illusion of tossing someone off an overpass seems logical ; when the idea of purchasing stabbing weapons makes you giggle maniacally. Anyway, you know the moment. We all share it on some level. Some of us just act on it with stronger emotions and with less control.
Let me give an example of my ramblings. Recently I was heading into a CVS and I did something you only read about in books nowadays, I held the door for someone. Big mistake! This arrogant chic strolled right past me with not so much as a head nod of gratitude. Now I don't normally fish for graciousness but COME ON! The kicker was that she continued to make auditory love to her cell phone at volumes unnecessary.
Mercury began rising! I HEARD THE CLICK! What are my options here? Do I forgive? Do I forget? Do I destroy? My processor started flickerin' and clickin' and what I came up with was a low resonating growl accompanied by a, YOU'RE WELCOME! "Oh aaaaa, thank you?" She said. She was surprised, can you believe it? Now I had to follow the unappreciative heathen into the store. It was all I could do not to gather this chick by the belt and collar and launch her head first into the Entenmann's display. Is that wrong? Am I out of line in my thinking?
How about when I let someone into my lane on the highway and they don't show me my thank you wave. Should I not visualize dropping the hammer and ramming them in an attempt to induce a sixty-five mile an hour cartwheel? No you say? Is gnawing ferociously on the steering wheel while doing my best Tickle me Elmo impersonation a bit much? How about wanting to reenact the disembowelment scene from Braveheart on a texting tailgater; is that a little incessant? Next you're gonna tell me that following someone into their neighborhood after they've cut me off is a bad thing. Is it? Lets not even talk about food shoppers who are unnecessarily nasty to cashier clerks. These pompous assholes deserve to be strapped to a shopping cart and sent hurling form the nearest rocky cliff only to plunge some thousand feet down to a fiery pit below. That would be ok, right?
Alright, enough of that........deep breath. What I'm figuring out, when I can silence the terror from within, is that people are generally not very friendly these days and could use a little jolt of reality. (The Deliverer, why not be me!) Besides, this self indulgent egotistical preoccupation with one's gadgets, wealth, and appearance is winning out over genuine concern for one another's well being and its scary. I ask you.......Do I need anger management??? Ok, maybe just a class or two.
A few years ago a progressive chick worked with me and she once said "people are becoming so self involved it's frightening, I'm going to get away from it all soon and my girlfriend and I are going to live in a yurt out west." I didn't think much of it then cuz she was always talking whacked stuff about people and the environment and the end of it all, but a light went on later that day, WHAT THE FUCK IS A YURT???!!! With much thanks to Google I found out It's a "portable, felt-covered, wood lattice-framed dwelling structure traditionally used by nomads in the steppes of Central Asia." Ok! That's gonna go over well three months deep into a harsh winter.
Anyway, that's what I thought then, but now I'm starting to think she might have been right. Just think, getting away from all the mindless gadgetry and the impersonal soullessness that walks the streets today, sounds great?
Nah,my powers are needed here. There are lots of wrong doers out there who need my ever guiding scowl of animosity and my punitive imagination to inject new life into their thoughtless souls. All I need now is a uniform, a commissioner, a signal light and a good lawyer, for I have always been and will always be an admirable councilor of cultivated behavior. Anger management?...........Heh!
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
The low road
I was smack dab in the middle of typing, what I thought was a great idea for an entry, when it hit me; A message from, well, me! It said "ITS TIME TO TAKE A BREAK FROM THE OVERLY DESCRIPTIVE, INNUENDOED, METAPHORICALLY SELF INDULGENT, LONG WINDED USUAL STUFF YOU'VE BEEN DIVING INTO UP UNTIL THIS POINT AND VENTURE DOWN A DIFFERENT PATH."
So after having my work impugned by myself, in classic schizophrenic fashion, I thought about it for a while. What I came up with was simple; I'll put together a list of things, a gathering of thought fragments if you will; a compilation of stuff that genuinely makes me laugh and pisses me off, sprinkled with things that quite frankly, CREEP ME OUT! This list is neither plot driven nor dream induced. If I offend in the process, I'm sorry in advance. It is as follows:
-Any gross word that sounds exactly like what it
does, is or is intended for:
Salve, Ooze, ointment, puss, pustule, mucus,
flem, curd,moist, enema, secretion, shanker,
smegma, sphincter
-Ego laden vanity liscence plates that I don't
understand
-People with horrific feet who wear sandals
-A nun with her thong showing
-Dry ear flakes
-Those who think their Pit Bull is not vicious
until it coughs up the remains of their
ninety-eight year old grandmother......And
her power chair
-An extremely hot chick with three rows of teeth
-Really ugly infants
-The parents of really ugly infants
-Overly hairy fat guys on the beach with an
explosion of ass hair bursting from the
speedo
-Having to sneeze with a mouth full of rice
-A couple of senior citizens square dancing
with assless pants
-Someone who talks to me with that little bit
of flem stuck in the back of their throat making
them sound like a deaf munchkin.......And they
keep going
-A librarian with a pocket knife and a limp
-Ventriloquists
-An ice cream truck that also sells sex toys
-The missing links who shop at Walmart
-Colin Farrell's stardom
-Jerks who yell at me with their car window up
-A prostitute with an eye patch
-The awkward position I'm forced to get into
when trying to reach the back row of the
prepared food bar and the sneeze guard is
cutting off the blood flow to my head
-Women who carry a machete
-A lifeguard wearing a turban
-A church choir made up entirely of Guatemalan
transsexuals
-Really old folks violently making love
-A person who is telling me a story who realizes
its going nowhere and bails abruptly. Usually
it's accompanied by an implosion of self
confidence made noticeable by the spill out of
word fragments and punctuated with an "Ahhh, you
had to be there"
-Two thirty on a Christmas afternoon
-Guys who wear their necklace on the outside
of the black turtleneck
-Pubic hair in my egg salad
-Pubic hair in any salad
-Pantyhose
-When I'm standing up bent over and my foot
gets caught in the underwear instead of going
through the underwear leg hole and I'm sent
hurling towards the floor
-Magnum sized condoms
-Having poop cramps while in the shower
-People driving with the heat cranking,
windows up and convertible top down
-The unidentifiable turd knot found in the
center of a won ton noodle
-A 400 pound waitress who smells like cheese
-The guy who cranks the music for all of us
to hear at the red light.
-Midgets in porn
-Videos of Pole vaulting accidents
-Pole vaulting all together
-An orgy in a nursing home
So after having my work impugned by myself, in classic schizophrenic fashion, I thought about it for a while. What I came up with was simple; I'll put together a list of things, a gathering of thought fragments if you will; a compilation of stuff that genuinely makes me laugh and pisses me off, sprinkled with things that quite frankly, CREEP ME OUT! This list is neither plot driven nor dream induced. If I offend in the process, I'm sorry in advance. It is as follows:
-Any gross word that sounds exactly like what it
does, is or is intended for:
Salve, Ooze, ointment, puss, pustule, mucus,
flem, curd,moist, enema, secretion, shanker,
smegma, sphincter
-Ego laden vanity liscence plates that I don't
understand
-People with horrific feet who wear sandals
-A nun with her thong showing
-Dry ear flakes
-Those who think their Pit Bull is not vicious
until it coughs up the remains of their
ninety-eight year old grandmother......And
her power chair
-An extremely hot chick with three rows of teeth
-Really ugly infants
-The parents of really ugly infants
-Overly hairy fat guys on the beach with an
explosion of ass hair bursting from the
speedo
-Having to sneeze with a mouth full of rice
-A couple of senior citizens square dancing
with assless pants
-Someone who talks to me with that little bit
of flem stuck in the back of their throat making
them sound like a deaf munchkin.......And they
keep going
-A librarian with a pocket knife and a limp
-Ventriloquists
-An ice cream truck that also sells sex toys
-The missing links who shop at Walmart
-Colin Farrell's stardom
-Jerks who yell at me with their car window up
-A prostitute with an eye patch
-The awkward position I'm forced to get into
when trying to reach the back row of the
prepared food bar and the sneeze guard is
cutting off the blood flow to my head
-Women who carry a machete
-A lifeguard wearing a turban
-A church choir made up entirely of Guatemalan
transsexuals
-Really old folks violently making love
-A person who is telling me a story who realizes
its going nowhere and bails abruptly. Usually
it's accompanied by an implosion of self
confidence made noticeable by the spill out of
word fragments and punctuated with an "Ahhh, you
had to be there"
-Two thirty on a Christmas afternoon
-Guys who wear their necklace on the outside
of the black turtleneck
-Pubic hair in my egg salad
-Pubic hair in any salad
-Pantyhose
-When I'm standing up bent over and my foot
gets caught in the underwear instead of going
through the underwear leg hole and I'm sent
hurling towards the floor
-Magnum sized condoms
-Having poop cramps while in the shower
-People driving with the heat cranking,
windows up and convertible top down
-The unidentifiable turd knot found in the
center of a won ton noodle
-A 400 pound waitress who smells like cheese
-The guy who cranks the music for all of us
to hear at the red light.
-Midgets in porn
-Videos of Pole vaulting accidents
-Pole vaulting all together
-An orgy in a nursing home
Saturday, August 29, 2009
When the Smoke Cleared
Ripping through the trees at speeds not seen before I feared not only for myself but for all men. I was crouched low, for twilight made the branches hard to see as we shot under them with critical precision.
My mount responded to the fierce jerks of the reins with undying commitment. His movements were deliberate as he negotiated every turn with the desperation of prey evading predator. I was asking him to stretch his abilities like never before.
The air, now heavy with chill, was surely singeing his lungs for I too felt the burn that only the night air could deliver.
We pushed on, descending deeper into a thicket the likes of which most have never seen. All the while I could hear them howling, riciting the hymn of the damned; calling to the woods to seal off our deliverance.
My skin, frayed on their decree and dampened with blood, saw no relief from the slap of passing foliage that was draped in autumn dew. It seemed mother nature's scolding hand was answering their call and would be the one thing tonight we would not escape. Yet one misstep in these unforgiving lands and she would not be the only one feasting on chilled flesh, for they, were many.
Continuing on and putting what I'd hope to be a safer distance between us and those that would ravage, I listened. The ice like shrills that had pierced the night were now softened, muffled by the brush. As I began to feel, for the first time, an inspiring level of calm I was cautious. Falling victim to false hope here would prove costly, for wickedness knows no boundaries.
The night, now fully upon us, showed me a color from which I thought only one shade existed. We were being asked to progress through a darkness so void of light it grew heavy.
Sunddenly the continuance of time was severed and left for dead as an agonizing sound from above fell upon us with such vigor it shook the very ground. A deafening outcry that appeared to be resonating from heaven itself.
Just as I yanked heavily on the reins bringing us to an abrupt halt, the sound did the same. What, if on earth, could have produced such bedlam? My mind was racing to search for clarity as it hit again with a blast equal to that of the first.
This time, without momentum behind us to cut the sound, I was forced to throw my hands to my head in hopes of minimizing the effects of the resounding torture. The pain burrowed down through my head so thick it was as if it was trying to erase my every thought.
Don't stop! Don't stop! That message, once my law of the night, was now coming in fragments of confusion. The blackness we had lived, just a short time ago, was now becoming gray with distraction. Had to block it out! That was the only clear thought I could summons and with that, just like it had done before, the sound vanished.
What was it? What was I doing there? Feeling unsure of many things, including my own identity, I began trying to wipe the blur from my eyes. This in hopes of recapturing the knowledge that was being blown from my head with each pulse of the intolerable blast.
Hoping maybe we had heard the last of the beast from above it hit again! This time with unparalleled clarity that tore through my brain like a woodsman's knife up the belly of his kill. Louder than that of the two before it, this blast took on a high pitched shriek and it induced a rapid blink that only worsened the haze from which I was forced to peer.
I was now beginning to feel pain in my lower back and legs as the sound blanketed my entire body. It was strikingly clear though that pain was stronger on my right side.
As the piercing began its third retreat I noticed I was lying flat looking up into an unfamiliar setting. I suddenly felt the need to raise my head to scan my surroundings. I was sure this had to be done before the next blast could restrict my movements. In doing this I was startled to find a figure lying to my left.
With understanding now trickling in I shot my head back to the right and was frightened for a split second as I was greeted with my own disheveled presence peering back at me from the dresser mirror. Huh?
You've got to be kidding me! A DREAM?!?! Come on, I have questions! Where was I? Who was I? What were those that we were running from? What had happened leading up to our escape?
Oy Vey! Ruined yet again, stripped of another great ending to another fantastic tale! Wow, there is nothing I hate more than being robbed of the finishing touches to a great fantasy!
Beep! Beep! Beep! Blasted into my ear from the alarm clock on the night stand to my right. SILENCED into snoozery as I pounded it with closed fist! Just once, seriously, just once I would love to be able to finish a dream that actually has a story line! The ones I usually get to finish are the really obscure ones like Spongebob residing over the case of Joe Montana vs. the Fly; a tale of Kermit's shipment of lettuce that grow earthworms with pretty colors. No kidding, my dreams are usually way whacked.
Anyway, here is to hoping someday soon I'll get to complete a true tale of a dream.
These events are of a true nature, names were hidden and the event's whereabouts stricken to protect the Innocent. These events also occurred mysteriously on the night of this Tuesday past, the 25th day of August in the 2009th year of our lord. (A little medieval humor)
My mount responded to the fierce jerks of the reins with undying commitment. His movements were deliberate as he negotiated every turn with the desperation of prey evading predator. I was asking him to stretch his abilities like never before.
The air, now heavy with chill, was surely singeing his lungs for I too felt the burn that only the night air could deliver.
We pushed on, descending deeper into a thicket the likes of which most have never seen. All the while I could hear them howling, riciting the hymn of the damned; calling to the woods to seal off our deliverance.
My skin, frayed on their decree and dampened with blood, saw no relief from the slap of passing foliage that was draped in autumn dew. It seemed mother nature's scolding hand was answering their call and would be the one thing tonight we would not escape. Yet one misstep in these unforgiving lands and she would not be the only one feasting on chilled flesh, for they, were many.
Continuing on and putting what I'd hope to be a safer distance between us and those that would ravage, I listened. The ice like shrills that had pierced the night were now softened, muffled by the brush. As I began to feel, for the first time, an inspiring level of calm I was cautious. Falling victim to false hope here would prove costly, for wickedness knows no boundaries.
The night, now fully upon us, showed me a color from which I thought only one shade existed. We were being asked to progress through a darkness so void of light it grew heavy.
Sunddenly the continuance of time was severed and left for dead as an agonizing sound from above fell upon us with such vigor it shook the very ground. A deafening outcry that appeared to be resonating from heaven itself.
Just as I yanked heavily on the reins bringing us to an abrupt halt, the sound did the same. What, if on earth, could have produced such bedlam? My mind was racing to search for clarity as it hit again with a blast equal to that of the first.
This time, without momentum behind us to cut the sound, I was forced to throw my hands to my head in hopes of minimizing the effects of the resounding torture. The pain burrowed down through my head so thick it was as if it was trying to erase my every thought.
Don't stop! Don't stop! That message, once my law of the night, was now coming in fragments of confusion. The blackness we had lived, just a short time ago, was now becoming gray with distraction. Had to block it out! That was the only clear thought I could summons and with that, just like it had done before, the sound vanished.
What was it? What was I doing there? Feeling unsure of many things, including my own identity, I began trying to wipe the blur from my eyes. This in hopes of recapturing the knowledge that was being blown from my head with each pulse of the intolerable blast.
Hoping maybe we had heard the last of the beast from above it hit again! This time with unparalleled clarity that tore through my brain like a woodsman's knife up the belly of his kill. Louder than that of the two before it, this blast took on a high pitched shriek and it induced a rapid blink that only worsened the haze from which I was forced to peer.
I was now beginning to feel pain in my lower back and legs as the sound blanketed my entire body. It was strikingly clear though that pain was stronger on my right side.
As the piercing began its third retreat I noticed I was lying flat looking up into an unfamiliar setting. I suddenly felt the need to raise my head to scan my surroundings. I was sure this had to be done before the next blast could restrict my movements. In doing this I was startled to find a figure lying to my left.
With understanding now trickling in I shot my head back to the right and was frightened for a split second as I was greeted with my own disheveled presence peering back at me from the dresser mirror. Huh?
You've got to be kidding me! A DREAM?!?! Come on, I have questions! Where was I? Who was I? What were those that we were running from? What had happened leading up to our escape?
Oy Vey! Ruined yet again, stripped of another great ending to another fantastic tale! Wow, there is nothing I hate more than being robbed of the finishing touches to a great fantasy!
Beep! Beep! Beep! Blasted into my ear from the alarm clock on the night stand to my right. SILENCED into snoozery as I pounded it with closed fist! Just once, seriously, just once I would love to be able to finish a dream that actually has a story line! The ones I usually get to finish are the really obscure ones like Spongebob residing over the case of Joe Montana vs. the Fly; a tale of Kermit's shipment of lettuce that grow earthworms with pretty colors. No kidding, my dreams are usually way whacked.
Anyway, here is to hoping someday soon I'll get to complete a true tale of a dream.
These events are of a true nature, names were hidden and the event's whereabouts stricken to protect the Innocent. These events also occurred mysteriously on the night of this Tuesday past, the 25th day of August in the 2009th year of our lord. (A little medieval humor)
Friday, August 21, 2009
And Lead us Not into Admiration
I’m sitting here; my retinas are feasting on the nutrient rich glow beaming from the LCD, yet I'm void of expression. My mouth is hanging open bearing the look of a ninety eight year old man who is unaware his balls have been hanging out of his bathing suit all afternoon.
Nonetheless, my well lit stare is anxious in its lifelessness and I know I'll be ready to spring into action the moment my pulse decides to flutter.
This could be a sign, I guess, a sign from a higher power telling me to put my writing aside and to signal in my spirituality. Perhaps my energies are to be offered to the world for healing, one living creature at a time; starting with myself?
Maybe I am destined to clutch the lifeless hands of the meek and to guide them on a path to prosperity. Yet how would I know from which path to proceed? Am I to walk with those less privileged or of desolate intellect? If so, behind what blueprint do I precede these people?
Who am I to lead, for I am just a wayward writer who himself is ever thirsting for acceptance and true understanding of one's whereabouts on the path of celebrated continuance. I am a writer who may have, just MAY have, gotten a hold of some questionable shit some years back.
Hold n a second... I do believe we have a pulse! That’s it! Let’s go with it: "Thirsting for Acceptance"!
What is it that has so many of us craving praise and approval? Why do we seek recognition with such reckless abandon? What makes Bill over there so damned confident while the rest of us continually shiver under the heavy blanket that's embroidered with "Are you sure"? To what publication must we subscribe to find the antidote for our insecurities?
I've also got to wonder if Bill ever needs the warmth of an old comforter like, "I love you." How about the support structure of a, "You are so funny!"? Think Bill ever grovels at the foot of his woman for a simple, "You are so cute”? I think not, for Bill is steadfast in his Zeus-like fortitude. This all brings me to my next question. Anyone know who the hell Bill is?
Anyway, I guess what I'm trying to say is that I suffer from intense worry, uncertainty, and the need to lure compliments. Yep, I am guilty of thirsting for praise just like so many others out there.
For instance; One night I would like to place the garbage cans at the end of the driveway, outstretch my arms, place palms to the heavens, and receive a thunderous applause.
Is turning in a well grilled fillet, besieged by orchestral accompaniment, out of the question?
Is it too much to ask for a tympani roll as I enter the bedroom? All I'm asking for here is a little support from time to time; a pat on the back if you will; a confidence booster.
Seriously though, it’s a delicate issue, the need to impress or to receive accolades. I find myself quite regularly flipping the cards in the hopes of an ace of praise. I also find myself very jealous of those who don't need such acclaim, but by the same token I wouldn't want to change who I am becoming.
The one thing I can find in all this, besides realizing I am completely befuddled, is that most entertainers, in all fields, probably feel the same need to be embraced with the warmth of admiration.
I have always found myself wanting to entertain others in some way shape or form, usually something comedic like. So I guess what I am trying to say is that I'm relatively comfortable knowing that I suffer from the habitual need for approval
Nonetheless, my well lit stare is anxious in its lifelessness and I know I'll be ready to spring into action the moment my pulse decides to flutter.
This could be a sign, I guess, a sign from a higher power telling me to put my writing aside and to signal in my spirituality. Perhaps my energies are to be offered to the world for healing, one living creature at a time; starting with myself?
Maybe I am destined to clutch the lifeless hands of the meek and to guide them on a path to prosperity. Yet how would I know from which path to proceed? Am I to walk with those less privileged or of desolate intellect? If so, behind what blueprint do I precede these people?
Who am I to lead, for I am just a wayward writer who himself is ever thirsting for acceptance and true understanding of one's whereabouts on the path of celebrated continuance. I am a writer who may have, just MAY have, gotten a hold of some questionable shit some years back.
Hold n a second... I do believe we have a pulse! That’s it! Let’s go with it: "Thirsting for Acceptance"!
What is it that has so many of us craving praise and approval? Why do we seek recognition with such reckless abandon? What makes Bill over there so damned confident while the rest of us continually shiver under the heavy blanket that's embroidered with "Are you sure"? To what publication must we subscribe to find the antidote for our insecurities?
I've also got to wonder if Bill ever needs the warmth of an old comforter like, "I love you." How about the support structure of a, "You are so funny!"? Think Bill ever grovels at the foot of his woman for a simple, "You are so cute”? I think not, for Bill is steadfast in his Zeus-like fortitude. This all brings me to my next question. Anyone know who the hell Bill is?
Anyway, I guess what I'm trying to say is that I suffer from intense worry, uncertainty, and the need to lure compliments. Yep, I am guilty of thirsting for praise just like so many others out there.
For instance; One night I would like to place the garbage cans at the end of the driveway, outstretch my arms, place palms to the heavens, and receive a thunderous applause.
Is turning in a well grilled fillet, besieged by orchestral accompaniment, out of the question?
Is it too much to ask for a tympani roll as I enter the bedroom? All I'm asking for here is a little support from time to time; a pat on the back if you will; a confidence booster.
Seriously though, it’s a delicate issue, the need to impress or to receive accolades. I find myself quite regularly flipping the cards in the hopes of an ace of praise. I also find myself very jealous of those who don't need such acclaim, but by the same token I wouldn't want to change who I am becoming.
The one thing I can find in all this, besides realizing I am completely befuddled, is that most entertainers, in all fields, probably feel the same need to be embraced with the warmth of admiration.
I have always found myself wanting to entertain others in some way shape or form, usually something comedic like. So I guess what I am trying to say is that I'm relatively comfortable knowing that I suffer from the habitual need for approval
Thursday, August 13, 2009
The High Noon Gladiator
I've got something serious to talk about. Something that's got me worried and its been eating me up inside. I don't know, I feel like I'm approaching the point of no return. I've talked with people, written others and I've even cried into the ear of a few strangers. What better place than here I guess to purge myself of the mental constraints I've been living with everyday of my life.
Day in and day out I am reminded of the horrible consequences that I could bring upon myself by allowing this affliction to invade the sanctity of my soul. I don't even know where to start or how to quantify the overwhelming distress I am feeling. I guess I'll just say it, forgive me, here goes.
I CAN NOT STOP BUYING JUNK FOOD FOR LUNCH!!! I really can't, I love it! Cheese steak subs, sausage calzone, general tso's chicken, well done french fries, mac & cheese, Italian cold cuts, Royal Farm's steak fries, orange chicken, grilled cheese w/ sausage and tomato, (that's my favorite by the way) meatball sub, the hot bar at various grocery stores and last and probably least Burger King. Shoot, I've even tapped the 7-eleven pizza carousels from time to time. That is pizza right?
Anyway, why do I do this? Why do I love food so much? Especially that which is bad for me. Being such a calorie conscious workout nut it doesn't make sense and I can't figure it out. The only real conclusion I could ever come up with was, Monotony Neurosis. Sounds clinical, I like it.
I don't know, maybe I'm looking at this through smudged glass, maybe it has nothing to do with food at all. Maybe, just maybe, its something much much more. Something from way down deep in the pit of my psyche. Maybe its bordom? That's got to be it!
It has been horribly slow at work during this recession. Funny thing is, I bring a beautiful assortment of food from home everyday and everyday around 10:30 my head becomes the referee in a vicious shoulder to shoulder UFC contest between two mini Garys. The victor usually being the one dressed in red.
Its at that point my mind begins its rapid descent into the imaginary abyss of sustenance. Then, from the large clock on the wall comes a thunderous THWACK as the second hand finishes its ascension into perfect vertical alignment with its brothers clad in black. HIGH NOON!
In desperate need of my daily allotted time of sunshine and air free of dungeon like stench, I race to my car and venture out onto temptation highway, otherwise known as York road. Its there I go for a daily four wheeled stroll to relieve some stress and fight off the rigors of the day. It is also there that the real battle begins.
Let me try to paint a picture for you. Imagine yourself in the time of the roman empire strolling along the city streets filled with merchants, magicians, peasants and street savvy peddlers. The air is alive and filled with sounds of street music, the constant murmur of heavy bartering, the sweet aroma of fresh fruits and warm bread and the occasional plea of the desperate.
As I pass by all of the places that pray on my weaknesses their brightly colored signs claw at me with the persistence of seasoned street vendors. Its then I start to feel the gentle tug of temptation breaking down my defenses and seducing me into submission.
Time after time I lose my battle with Yorkeus Roadeus, the greatest compromiser of integrity my world has ever seen. Today it was Subway's tuna fish. Tomorrow it will probably be guilt laden hot bar. Meanwhile the wonderfully healthy food that I brought from home grows weary with complex and draws ever closer to the realm of the underworld. (dumpster out back)
In closing, is all of this really that big of a deal? No it's not. I just figure like some people though, I'm manically exercising regularly, so that I can give into my temptations quite frequently, all the while enjoying the not so positive fruits of life. Its been pretty slow at work lately, lots of time to get lost in some crazy thoughts and eccentric reasoning.
Day in and day out I am reminded of the horrible consequences that I could bring upon myself by allowing this affliction to invade the sanctity of my soul. I don't even know where to start or how to quantify the overwhelming distress I am feeling. I guess I'll just say it, forgive me, here goes.
I CAN NOT STOP BUYING JUNK FOOD FOR LUNCH!!! I really can't, I love it! Cheese steak subs, sausage calzone, general tso's chicken, well done french fries, mac & cheese, Italian cold cuts, Royal Farm's steak fries, orange chicken, grilled cheese w/ sausage and tomato, (that's my favorite by the way) meatball sub, the hot bar at various grocery stores and last and probably least Burger King. Shoot, I've even tapped the 7-eleven pizza carousels from time to time. That is pizza right?
Anyway, why do I do this? Why do I love food so much? Especially that which is bad for me. Being such a calorie conscious workout nut it doesn't make sense and I can't figure it out. The only real conclusion I could ever come up with was, Monotony Neurosis. Sounds clinical, I like it.
I don't know, maybe I'm looking at this through smudged glass, maybe it has nothing to do with food at all. Maybe, just maybe, its something much much more. Something from way down deep in the pit of my psyche. Maybe its bordom? That's got to be it!
It has been horribly slow at work during this recession. Funny thing is, I bring a beautiful assortment of food from home everyday and everyday around 10:30 my head becomes the referee in a vicious shoulder to shoulder UFC contest between two mini Garys. The victor usually being the one dressed in red.
Its at that point my mind begins its rapid descent into the imaginary abyss of sustenance. Then, from the large clock on the wall comes a thunderous THWACK as the second hand finishes its ascension into perfect vertical alignment with its brothers clad in black. HIGH NOON!
In desperate need of my daily allotted time of sunshine and air free of dungeon like stench, I race to my car and venture out onto temptation highway, otherwise known as York road. Its there I go for a daily four wheeled stroll to relieve some stress and fight off the rigors of the day. It is also there that the real battle begins.
Let me try to paint a picture for you. Imagine yourself in the time of the roman empire strolling along the city streets filled with merchants, magicians, peasants and street savvy peddlers. The air is alive and filled with sounds of street music, the constant murmur of heavy bartering, the sweet aroma of fresh fruits and warm bread and the occasional plea of the desperate.
As I pass by all of the places that pray on my weaknesses their brightly colored signs claw at me with the persistence of seasoned street vendors. Its then I start to feel the gentle tug of temptation breaking down my defenses and seducing me into submission.
Time after time I lose my battle with Yorkeus Roadeus, the greatest compromiser of integrity my world has ever seen. Today it was Subway's tuna fish. Tomorrow it will probably be guilt laden hot bar. Meanwhile the wonderfully healthy food that I brought from home grows weary with complex and draws ever closer to the realm of the underworld. (dumpster out back)
In closing, is all of this really that big of a deal? No it's not. I just figure like some people though, I'm manically exercising regularly, so that I can give into my temptations quite frequently, all the while enjoying the not so positive fruits of life. Its been pretty slow at work lately, lots of time to get lost in some crazy thoughts and eccentric reasoning.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)