The Curse

            “Remember that girl I dated in College,” asked John.

            “I think there was more than one,” said Kyle.

            “The witch,” said John.

  

            Kyle looked at John with a raised eyebrow. He put his coffee cup down and shook his head.

 

            “You never dated a witch,” said Kyle.

            “Yes. I did. She went to that art school. She was all into magic spells and incantations and stuff,” said John.

            “I don’t think I remember her. Wait, was she the lesbian one,” asked Kyle.

 

            John looked out the café window and sighed.

 

            “Well, what about her,” asked Kyle.

            “I think she put a curse on me after we broke up,” said John.

            “A curse? You’ve got to be kidding me,” said Kyle.

             Kyle laughed and looked around the café to see if anyone was listening. He wondered if anyone around was giving John the old crazy eye.

             “Why do you think she put a curse on you,” asked Kyle.

            “After we broke up my life just hasn’t seemed to work out the way I thought it would. It seems like I’ve just been failing at everything ever since that night I told her I didn’t want to see her anymore,” said John.

            “I don’t think that would have anything to do with a college girl and her BS curse,” said Kyle.

             John looked at Kyle and frowned.

             “I’m saying I don’t think a sexually confused college freshman would have the power to cast a spell of failure on you John. I just don’t think she had the ability. She wasn’t a witch,” said Kyle.

            “So you do remember her,” asked John.

            “No. I don’t remember her, but that isn’t important. I really don’t think she put a curse on you,” said Kyle.

             A waitress came over and asked if there was anything else either of them needed. The waitress was wearing a name tag identifying her as Megan. John looked up at her meekly.

             “No, we’re fine, but Maggie, I’d like to ask you a quick question if that’s okay,” said Kyle.

            “Sure honey,” said Maggie.

            “Do you think a college freshman girl has the almighty gypsy power to place a curse on my friend here,” asked Kyle.

             John blushed and tried to wave her off. Maggie smiled and leaned forward toward the café table.

             “I don’t think so. Although I’ve seen some girls tear through the heart of a man with the efficiency of a bullet or carve guys up with the malice of an Aztec priest,” said Maggie.

            “But no witchy curses right,” asked Kyle.   

            “No, no witchy curses,” said Maggie.

 

            She smiled at them both and left the table.

 

            “You’re a dick,” said John.

            “Yeah, but I’m right. So let’s get out of this place and see about getting your life back on track you wretched animal,” said Kyle.

             Kyle left some money on the café table and the two got up and headed out toward the sidewalk. John playfully punched Kyle in the shoulder. He opened the café door and heard a yell. He looked to his left to see some panicking movers with a crane. John looked up as a shadow fell over him. A piano fell from nowhere and smashed John.

Grainy

Rain sputtered against

the windows in short

wet bursts.

 

The gray sky melting

down in thin ribbons

of clear water.

 

It falls on us all.

The troubled and

un-troubled.

 

We all look for

the sun but take

comfort that in

all lives…

 

…a little rain must

fall.

Don't Go, well, you'll get it...

            Gary fell asleep on the couch and had a deep and long dream about a great golden ape god that would grant him any wish. Gary thought this was awesome since he was a complete and total weakling. He was the very guy whom bullies kicked sand at. The Golden Gorilla granted his wish for muscles and strength with an ape house screech.

             When Gary woke up on the couch, he was a muscle bound giant. He could barely turn his head thanks to his new muscular physique.

             “Thank you Great Golden Gorilla,” he shouted as he flexed in the mirror.

             Word of Gary’s unbelievable transformation quickly spread through town and it caught the ear of Willie Shaw, the renowned revivalist. He paid Gary a visit to see this miracle for himself.

             “So you were a 90 pound weakling, a nothing body,” asked Willie Shaw.

            “Yes sir. Until the Great Golden Gorilla granted me my wish to be strong,” said Gary.

            “Was the gorilla…God,” asked Willie Shaw.  

            “I think God was the Gorilla,” said Gary.

            “Praise the ape,” said Willie Shaw.

             Willie Shaw convinced Gary to come with him on his traveling revival tour all across America and they praised and promoted Gary’s wild transformation into a muscular dynamo after a visit from the Golden Gorilla God. They went to Texas and Louisiana, Oklahoma and Kansas, Illinois and Indiana, which was the common circuit for Willie Shaw’s traveling revival show. In each place the people would marvel at Gary’s miracle and shout to the heavens for the Golden Gorilla to grant their wish, for money, health, power, and for more money.

             Gary flexed and posed alongside Willie Shaw as they made their way onto TV and the larger general populace caught wind of the story. The amazing Gary Miracle from the Great Golden Ape was the talk on everyone’s lips. No one could believe that there was a God, it was a gorilla and that it would grant wishes. Churches to the Great Golden Ape sprang up across the country as millions flocked to them for prayer and the chance to have their wishes granted.

             Soon Gary started to wonder if all those push-up and weight lifting had anything to do with his sudden muscularity. Perhaps he imagined the Golden Ape in his dreams and he didn’t grant his wish, but he made his own wish come true through his own hard work. Willie Shaw quickly reminded Gary that was impossible since Gary was clearly a weakling and incapable of putting on so much muscular mass before.

             “A miracle is a miracle boy,” said Willie Shaw as he chomped on his cigar.

            “But I think I’m starting to feel bad,” said Gary.

            “Then you just keep praying to that Golden Gorilla, maybe he’ll show you the way,” said Willie Shaw as he went back to counting the stacks of money covering his large and official Golden Gorilla desk.

             Gary went back to his new mansion and dropped his huge frame onto the couch. He dozed off soon after and was in the third cosmic realm where he had first seen the Great Golden Gorilla. He shouted and called for the Gorilla’s attention. The Golden Gorilla was busy smelling a pile of its own feces, which was probably important religious work. Gary yelled and waved his muscular arms. The Golden Gorilla finally looked up at him.

             “Ah Gary, how’s the muscles working out,” asked the Great Golden Ape.

            “Good, really good. I actually finally spoke to a woman ,” said Gary.

            “That’s wonderful. So, what can I do for you now and did you bring me a banana,” said the Golden Gorilla.

            “A banana?”

            “Yeah, you don’t think I’m like that other God, doing things for free. I expect bananas,” said the Golden Ape.

            “I didn’t give you a banana before, when I got the muscles,” said Gary.

             The Golden Gorilla rubbed his hairy chin and snorted though his nose.

             “I’m sorry Gary, I was thinking about bananas, what did you say,” asked the Golden Gorilla.

            “Banana, banana, I was talking about how you didn’t ask me for a banana when you gave me these muscles”, said Gary.

                The Golden Gorilla looked at Gary for a long while.

             “You’re right. I must have been pretty drunk to have given you those rippling muscles. So, do you have a banana?”

            “Well, no. I didn’t know I would need one” said Gary.

            “Ooh, that’s too bad,” said the Golden Gorilla.

             Gary woke up on his luxury couch. His muscles were gone and he was back to his original weakling frame. He cried and shouted and tried to pray to the Golden Gorilla but no response came. Willie Shaw quickly dumped him as a spokesperson but kept up with the Golden Gorilla Religion and was soon elected Pope.

             Now Gary sleeps on a pile of bananas and tries to dream of his Golden Gorilla. Banana, Banana, banana, banana, banana, banana, banana….

 

Eating Out

            The diner clinked and clattered with the sounds of platters and plates being shuffled about. Coffee dripped lazily into the coffee pot while Nick stared at the clock. It was three thirty in the morning and Nick had an hour left before his train. He was leaving town to get away from Lainey because she was in love with someone else. It was all he could do. He didn’t want to leave but when he saw her laughing and hugging and giggling with that other man he felt a vicious hate in his bones. He thought it was best to get out of town.

             A waitress came to the counter and asked him what he’d like to eat. Nick ordered a coffee and some rye toast with grape jelly. The waitress barely looked at Nick as she took the order and darted off toward the kitchen. Nick was looking for some eye contact, someone to see the sadness in his eyes and offer a kind word of support. The way he thought Lainey looked at him. Maybe that was why she was happier in the arms of another man. Maybe his constant sadness drove her away. He sighed and took a sip from his coffee cup.

             A drunk couple came into the diner. They laughed with each other as the waitress showed them to a booth in the back. Nick smiled at them as they walked past him. They were joking about some Danish restaurant they had gone too earlier. Nick wished he and Lainey could have gone there. Now she was taking trips with this other man instead of him. Now she was cuddling and lying with some jerk.

             Nick put a little more cream in his coffee to cut some of the late night coffee bitterness.  He didn’t know why he even ordered the toast. He didn’t even really want it. He had no appetite. He lost it when he saw how much Lainey was all over that other guy. That other slimey, greasy, annoying dork. He walked out of the bar they arrived at without them seeing him. He sneaked past them without catching their eyes. They were so invested in each other. The way he thought he and Lainey were. He went back to his apartment, packed a bag, turned off the lights and headed right to the train station to get out of town. He didn’t have a train until four thirty so he had to kill some time. Time to stew over the lost love of his dear Lainey.

             Lainey was hilarious. She was beautiful.  She was charming. She was everything that Nick thought he wanted in a woman. He wanted to have children with her. He wanted to marry her and make her the person he whispered to on rainy nights about the simple and serious things until they were old and gray. Now she was with some other douche and it made Nick crazy. Crazy jealous and angry about his failures and missing pieces.

             The waitress brought his rye toast over and dumped it in front of him. Nick looked at the dry rye toast and could have sworn he could see his reflection in it. Dry, brittle, boring, needing jelly for flavor. He pushed the toast away and took another slug of coffee. He looked at the clock again and sighed. He’d lost and knew there was no comeback. At least the coffee was drinkable.

Stirring

The night was filled with

the terrible swirling of specters

and bodiless worries.

 

Shut eyes brought no

relief from the staring of

eyeless sockets peeking

over my head.

 

They attacked and swayed

in unnatural ways, peering

for too long at my troubled

form.

 

Giant heads with little bodies,

long black hair swimming around

faceless women, drifting and then

darting around me.

 

They were all the troubles I

fight with. All the non-stop

burdens of constant fears

playing with a mind too

awake to sleep but too weary

to wake.

 

They tugged and pulled

at the essence of my hopes

to dash them on the battered

rocks of the unknown.

 

There was no respite through

the night. It was a constant

waterfall of horrors beating

against my brain.

Sleep ebbed and flowed

until the tide finally settled

and I woke in the morning,

un-refreshed and more worried

than the night before.

Destinies

Written and un-written.

A place to be and where
to go.

 

Made and un-made.
Waiting to be created and
dissolved.

 

Each part to play,
each play a part of
a whole.

 

Imagined and un-imagined
impossibilities of the
future, built on the
past.

 

The things to be done,
the things wanted,
the things that can be.

 

Molded and built to
fit in line or to break the
line.

 

Places on the map
seen and un-seen.
Moving forward.

The Difference

            Toby cut the red construction paper as carefully as his little fingers would allow. He didn’t like the safety scissors they made he and the other kids use in school. At home he could use real scissors as long as mom or dad was watching. He would just have to make due in this classroom.

             “Make sure you’re cutting along the outline we traced earlier,” said the teacher, Ms. Carter.

“It would be a lot frigging easier if we had real scissors,” mumbled Toby.

            “What was that Toby,” asked Ms. Carter.

            “Nothing,” said Toby.

             Toby cut along the black outline in the shape of a heart. He would have preferred to cut out something of his own design but Ms. Carter was trying to get all the children to follow directions. Toby guessed that following directions was an important part of learning a useful life skill. He stuck his tongue out the corner of his mouth as he made the difficult final cut of his paper heart. The scraps of the construction paper fell to his school desk and he held up the finished heart.

             “Good job Toby. See children, how Toby followed the lines. Now he can come up to the front art desk and pick out what kind of lace he’d like around his heart,” said Ms. Carter.

             Toby looked up at Ms. Carter.

 “Do I have to put lace around it,” he asked Ms. Carter.

 

            Ms. Carter smoothed the front of her skirt as she moved around to the front of her large desk.

            “Of course you need to put lace around the heart. Don’t you want it to be pretty?”
 

            Toby looked at his simple paper heart.

             “I think it looks pretty the way it is,” said Toby.

            “Don’t you think it can look even prettier with some nice lace around it,” asked Ms. Carter.

            “No,” said Toby.

             Ms. Carter cringed a bit. Toby saw that she had a sort of smile that wasn’t really a smile on her face. The kind of face her mother made when dad was in the bathroom for too long.

             “Come up here and get your lace Toby,” said Ms. Carter.

            “I’m pretty sure I like my heart the way it is,” said Toby.

            “Get up here and get your lace Toby. I’m not going to tell you again,” said Ms. Carter.

             The other children looked away from their glitter, glue, lace and own paper hearts. Toby sighed and got up from his little desk and went to the art table to pick out some lace for his heart. He felt a little sting behind his eyes but he didn’t want to cry. He wanted his heart to be different but was told it had to be like everyone else’s. He didn’t quite know why but he just didn’t want it to be the same.

Wanting it to happen

            He wanted to kiss her more than he’d wanted anything in a long time. The very thought of pressing his lips against her soft small lips made his stomach rumble and gurgle with excitement. He felt like he was on a roller coaster and each time he caught her eyes he felt like the world was dropping away under his feet. He’d kissed other women before. It wasn’t like his first kiss on the fire escape with the adorable blonde ghost at the school’s haunted house; the first kiss to mark all others from then on. This kiss seemed too important to mess up. He wanted it to be right. More right than anything he’d done in his life.

             Every accidental touch from her was like an electrical pulse through his entire body. Yet, he didn’t act. He wasn’t sure if he should. Ever fiber in his nervous body was telling him to act, but he resisted. He was cautious. He didn’t want to ruin anything that could come. He didn’t want to screw up any potential that existed for something more meaningful than a fleeting ill-timed kiss.

             She laughed at his antics and smiled when he listened. He felt the sweat on his forehead and had to wipe it away but try to look relatively cool while doing it. Although he wasn’t sure what was cool anymore. He found himself almost completely unable to look right at her beautiful face because the urge to scoop her up in his arms and kiss her was unbearable.

             His breath was short but he kept it to himself. His brain was shooting fireworks and signal flares off into the sky reading, “Kiss her you fool! Kiss her now!!!” And still he resisted. He just wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do. Not for him, but for her. He was so worried about upsetting her or putting himself in the wrong with her that he continued on in his stodgy, Victorian, Edwardian butler personality. A butler doesn’t take such risks but soldiers on in the face of even the mildest desires.

             He cursed his values as he walked next to her. He felt a fiery passion inside roaring to be released but his up-bringing, his concern for her feelings overpowered his desire. He continued to babble and fumble and act aloof, as if that was what you were supposed to do, but inside he was engulfed, incinerated, with want.

 

            He swore that the next time, the next time would be different. He’d make it right. He’d make it special and memorable and meaningful. He hoped by doing so he’d make the right impression and the real life version of all his imaginings would finally come true.  He hoped she might want that too.

             In the meantime, he will continue to boil on the stove of his passionate heart in the hope she’ll stir.

Carefully

            “All I want to do is take care of you,” said Albert.

            “You can hardly take care of yourself,” said Molly.
           
            Albert looked away from Molly’s pretty face and her icy blue eyes.

            “I think that if I could take care of you, then, maybe, I could take care of myself better,” said Albert.

             Molly sighed and cleared her throat.

            “That sounds a little, I don’t know…co-dependent,” said Molly.

 

            Albert shrugged. He had been hoping this conversation would go better. Instead of Molly falling into his arms and begging him in her sweet yet raspy voice to be her caretaker forever, she was jilting him. He had not expected that.

             “It’s not co-dependent. It’s cooperation. It’s sharing and working together for a common goal,” said Albert.

            “What’s the common goal then,” asked Molly.
            “To see the world together, while holding hands. Gazing out over the oceans together while hugging, to make love under some giant redwood as it rains gently from above,” said Albert.

            “I don’t think we really share a common goal Albert,” said Molly.

             A timer on Molly’s desk dinged.

 

            “It looks like we’ve come to the end of our hour Albert. So here’s what I’d like you to work on for our next session. Please try to find a real positive goal and work on ways of achieving it. It can be something very small, like completing that painting you told me about,” said Molly.

            “Okay Doc, I will,” said Albert.

             Albert rose from the couch and headed toward the door and exited. His head was buried in his chest and Molly could feel his sadness in the room. Molly stood from behind her desk and went to the couch where Albert had been lying. She rested her head in the spot where Albert’s had been.

            “Oh Albert, maybe one day. One day,” said sighed.

The Burden

     I can finally say that I am now unemployed. I have been let go from my employer since there really wasn't enough work for me to do. If you're a regular reader of this blog then you might know that I spent a great deal of time complaining about my lack of consistent work and now I have none. I'm okay with it though. I was a little upset at first but now I've gone through the grieving process and I am at acceptance.

     I didn't much like work anyway. Well, that particular work. Sitting a cubicle is just so not what I want to do. It's taken me a very long time to realize that I have been basically faking my way through almost all my jobs because I thought it was simply what I HAD to do. It was a means of survival instead of any practical enjoyment.

     A full time job filled with mundane tasks and boring chores is not a life. I'd much rather have a life than a soul crushing, curse laden, mind kicker job. It's just who I am. I am a round peg trying to fit into a square hole (in more ways than one, cough). I don't like the square, but I was taught and brainwashed into believing that I didn't have any choice and I had to fit into that hole no matter what. "In the tree, part of the tree", as it were. But know I know that I don't have to be so limited.

     The burden of it weighing on me, pushing me down into a human-like paste, has been lifted and I finally feel free to try and make choices that will actually make me feel better about my station in life. I've been cowardly about most things in my life up to this point. I've been incredibly practical and insufferably morbid because I was doing something that brought me absolutely no pride or joy and felt limited by that.

     Now that smashing feeling has been lifted and I am slightly free to make choices that will be rewarding instead of a constant stinging feeling in my soul. So, dear readers, if you have any job opportunities that you think would reflect the best parts of me, please let me know. I can only offer my gratitude and praise.

Yeee-Ha!

Smeared

Blurry glasses,

thick with everything
seen and unseen.
 

General.

Unspecific.
Messy.

Looking forward

isn’t clear.
Milky and foggy.
 

Vague images of

the now waiting to
be wiped clear.

The view isn’t better.

Sometimes it’s best to
live in a blur.

The Noise behind the Noise

            I tossed and turned in bed all through the night. The noise of the nighttime world seemed amplified against the expected quiet of the early morning. Cars that badly needed exhaust repairs seemed to growl through the streets like some un-caged beasts of the wild. Motorcycles joined in the noise as if their roaring were to signal the other motorcycles of a fresh kill on the prairie.

             My ceiling fan’s blades cut through the air like wings, whooshing and whirring as the still air was circulated over my unsleeping mind.  I could hear each pulse of air as the blades spun. A rhythm of the ceiling’s fan motor turning was the background for the roar of the night life outside. Every sound seemed to have taken on a life of its own, as if they were conspiring to keep me from sleep.

             Ambulances and police car sirens echoed through the streets as a distant train rumbled and blared through a faraway darkness. The sounds seemed trapped in my bedroom, bouncing off the walls, directly into my ears. The constant noise kept my brain working, thinking, roiling with the unstoppable activities of everything happening all at once.

             I could hear the subtle murmurs of the few people walking about in this noisy world. There was faded drunken laughter, a few screams, a few cries, more laughter, and car doors slamming. I thought about all the people in my apartment building as they moved about the night; going to the bathroom, checking on unsettled children, seething over a recent argument over rent or where to live after this god forsaken noise pit.

             The building itself seemed to be a pulsar of noise. It was an antenna of the cacophony of the night; a car coming to a hard stop, the brakes screaming against the strain of squealing tires. Trucks of all sizes trampled through the night like elephants crashing through a thick jungle.  A wild, lost, noisy world without end forcing all of itself into my bedroom keeping me from the sleep I so wanted and needed.

            I didn’t want to look at the clock. I didn’t want to know what time it was. I just wanted it to be quiet so the crackling flames of my thoughts would die down enough to let me sleep. I could dream peacefully on the embers.

The Cuddle Effect

I wonder how soft

she is? Is her skin as

smooth as I imagine.

Is she ticklish?

 

What would her hands

feel like as they moved

over my body?

Would I get a tender

shiver since it’s been

so long?

 

Would her head resting

on my chest satisfy my

burning longing?

 

Can two people, locked in

an embrace really defeat the

terrors of the world for a few

precious moments?

Is the hug, the holding, really

the best part?

 

Swaying together in time to a

beat, a song, a rhythm,

hearts beating together.

The breathless listening to

each other’s bodies as a sway

turns into a kiss and a kiss

sets the world on fire.

 

The peaceful scent of

her hair as she nuzzles up

against my body.

I miss it.

I want it.  

 

I hold my breath.

Background

As I think about myself
and my place in the world
I forget about everything
happening around me.

Or rather, I simply don't
notice how much is
happening around me.

Things are constantly
happening as I selfishly
wish and want for the
things that are supposed
to make me happy.

The lives of others,
their wishes,
their dreams,
their desires,
their laughter,
their fears,

Fill the background
of life, our lives.