It is time. Every so often I take a introspective look at myself. I take measure of, the who I am with the who or what I would like to be. It does not surprise me that I often find the who I am comeing up short.
This time the measure has been no less pressing? I not only take measure of myself but also I take measure of the time that may be left to me in this form. On this easrth. if I keep eating the way I do. I have logged onto this life nearly fourty years now. Truth be said there have been many great moments. Then the flip side many not so great. I could and have made a case for both within the pages of tthis blog.
Truth be said it has been a short 40 years. In my youth there had never been an end in site. I took and burned up many years just trying to get through them. Mission acomplished. Now though it has dawned on me that just maybe I should have taken the time to enjoy the journey just a bit more.
I can only hope I ave 40 more good years to enjoy. If I play my cards right I will. My first 40 years were a gift. A gft that I had taken for granted. Of course I am alive. In what other state should I be in. Now though I know every day thet I plan to live on this earth must be fought for and thus appreciated.
With what currency do I plan to purchase the next 40 with? The currency of healthy choices. maybe, just maybe if I start now. If I start today It will have been soon enough. It is with this hope that I begin the purge.
I will no longer be the carnivore. The glory days of the empire are over. No more expansion. It is time for the long decline. This decline can be good. If it is done with grace? The Empire does not have to suffer cataclysmic colapse.
Why is it that we are iether growing or dieing. It seems to be the proper nature od things. In truth though we are all dieing from the moment of conception. So what state of decay am I in. The state where I must realize that expansion will not make me stronger, but begin to weight me down. Break me down and destroy me. I am in the age of less is more. I`m no longer into expansion mode. So I will no longer eat like I am a growing boy.
Over the next few days my body will be going through the great purge as it adjusts to a no meat no caffene diet. For now I will play at being a vegetarian for a while. Maybe I will like it.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Working on my million words of crap.
It has been a while since updating this blog. For good reason. I've been working on my million words of crap. I found a story to tell and am pursuing this story with a vengeance. I won't let it go this time. All my writing energy is going into it. After the first write up I will share. I promise. So I guess I am riding my muse pretty hard. She is happy.
This should be a good time for me. It is not. I feel like a fake. Like I am pretending to tell a story. Every thing is wrong. I am tumbling into a dark pit. The only brief moments of clarity or happiness lately is when and only when actually writing. This is not how it has worked for me in the past; I am anxious, so I write. I am elated at having written. I settle down content and smug. Now; I am anxious. I write I am at peace. I stop writing and I am immediately anxious again. It is like my biggest coping mechanism is broke. I am broke and no one really gives a dam. Well I do, I care. Maybe that will be enough this time.
Wish me luck all. I will keep you posted.
This should be a good time for me. It is not. I feel like a fake. Like I am pretending to tell a story. Every thing is wrong. I am tumbling into a dark pit. The only brief moments of clarity or happiness lately is when and only when actually writing. This is not how it has worked for me in the past; I am anxious, so I write. I am elated at having written. I settle down content and smug. Now; I am anxious. I write I am at peace. I stop writing and I am immediately anxious again. It is like my biggest coping mechanism is broke. I am broke and no one really gives a dam. Well I do, I care. Maybe that will be enough this time.
Wish me luck all. I will keep you posted.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Exercise "Panhandling can be fun"by Marlene Leach. Exercise completed by Shad
Yeah, Panhandling could be fun I suppose. I would have to step out side myself to realize the potential. Could you imagine me begging? Once upon a time I was a panhandler of sorts. I will tell you about it if you got the time.
Yeah time, we have to go back to elementary school. We are in the school lunch room. There I am. The little boy with too long hair and the birth control glasses, thick frames, soda bottle lenses. I bet he thinks he dresses smart. No one ever told him that button down shirts with big collars and cordoroy pants weren't cool. I don't know if he would understand if anyone had. His parents are frugal. Very frugal. He doesn't know what that means either. Just that his lunch sucks when compared to everyone elses. He wants a pop tart a twinky. Anything from hostess. Maybe even something fried like one of those tatter tots. Oh yeah tatter tots. He is amazed at how many of his piers don't eat their tatter tots. He ate his lunch already. Now he swings into action. First to the kids at his table. His friends?
He looks across the table points at some untouched tots. "you going to eat those." He knew they weren't. He waited patiently for confirmation. His question though suddenly assigned value to the uneaten portion of food. "Yeah, I'm going to eat them." Dejected he asks another. He gets some tots. He devours them happily greedily. Then scans the cafeteria.
There are many uneaten portions of tots. He gets up and wanders over to another table and sits down confidently between two girls. "Eww" One gets up. His mere presence at the table grosses out the girl. He smiles, moves closer to the other girl, who reacts in similar fashion. The girls on the other side of the table look at him with disgust. He smiles at them. It is obvious to them that he has cooties or some such catchy ailment. It is not long before the table is cleared. He calls after them, "I guess you don't want to finish your lunches. I will take care of your treys." The girls walk off upset and don't come back. The boy, oblivious to the insults he just received proceed to consolidate his gains. Lots of tatter tots. Some fruit cock tail, the half cherry is still in it, and a partialy eaten chicken patty. Con-tent, he eats oblivious of the social taboos he has just violated. He never wonders why people don't like him. He just uses it to his advantage. He scans the cafeteria once more. He still has time.
I guess pan handling can be fun. That day how ever, stuck, with that young man. He thought about it later. The light came on in his head. I guess it affected him on some internal level. The events played out in his soul over and over again. It can be fun. You get what you want. I always did. But what was the cost?
Yeah time, we have to go back to elementary school. We are in the school lunch room. There I am. The little boy with too long hair and the birth control glasses, thick frames, soda bottle lenses. I bet he thinks he dresses smart. No one ever told him that button down shirts with big collars and cordoroy pants weren't cool. I don't know if he would understand if anyone had. His parents are frugal. Very frugal. He doesn't know what that means either. Just that his lunch sucks when compared to everyone elses. He wants a pop tart a twinky. Anything from hostess. Maybe even something fried like one of those tatter tots. Oh yeah tatter tots. He is amazed at how many of his piers don't eat their tatter tots. He ate his lunch already. Now he swings into action. First to the kids at his table. His friends?
He looks across the table points at some untouched tots. "you going to eat those." He knew they weren't. He waited patiently for confirmation. His question though suddenly assigned value to the uneaten portion of food. "Yeah, I'm going to eat them." Dejected he asks another. He gets some tots. He devours them happily greedily. Then scans the cafeteria.
There are many uneaten portions of tots. He gets up and wanders over to another table and sits down confidently between two girls. "Eww" One gets up. His mere presence at the table grosses out the girl. He smiles, moves closer to the other girl, who reacts in similar fashion. The girls on the other side of the table look at him with disgust. He smiles at them. It is obvious to them that he has cooties or some such catchy ailment. It is not long before the table is cleared. He calls after them, "I guess you don't want to finish your lunches. I will take care of your treys." The girls walk off upset and don't come back. The boy, oblivious to the insults he just received proceed to consolidate his gains. Lots of tatter tots. Some fruit cock tail, the half cherry is still in it, and a partialy eaten chicken patty. Con-tent, he eats oblivious of the social taboos he has just violated. He never wonders why people don't like him. He just uses it to his advantage. He scans the cafeteria once more. He still has time.
I guess pan handling can be fun. That day how ever, stuck, with that young man. He thought about it later. The light came on in his head. I guess it affected him on some internal level. The events played out in his soul over and over again. It can be fun. You get what you want. I always did. But what was the cost?
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Marlene's writing exercises
"You meet a man in a bar in a strange town. He has a cat on his lap, and he orders a cup of coffee, slowly spoons sugar into it. He strokes the cat's black fur and says, "This contact is illusory. The cat and I are separated as though by a pane of glass, because man lives in time, in successiveness, while the magical animal lives in the present, in the eternity of the instant." What do you say back to him? And he to you? What does the cat do? What happened to this man before he came into the bar?" Marlene Leach
I had been walking for days now without stopping. Edgeing ever closer to the coordinates. What is a few days?, when measured against the year I had been traveling. A normal life was long past. What was the point? This was my normal now. I walked until exhausted. Found shelter, collapse exhausted. Woke up exhausted check my GPS for bearings and begin walking again. During my long trek I often thought about the why, and the how I had come to this ragged bare foot state. My feet are hard as leathery shoes now. I remember when I forsook my shoes. I had worn through my 3rd pair, and just didn't bother with a fourth. My feet bled and blistered. That had not deterred me. Eventually that hurt went away. My life had become one of simple needs. I needed to walk. I needed batteries for my GPS. I needed food.
I was closing in on my destination. With stoic determination I picked up my pace. Once there I would rest triumphant. With one goal completed, I would rest. My heart no longer ached for my losses. Like the blisters and bleeding of my feet. My heart ache went away. It was now hard and leathery like my feet. I was a walking dead man. All joy in life, gone.
I still don't know why it happened. She moved back home to New England with the kids. I was to follow as soon as the business of selling the old house was finished. Everything was well., until the sale fell through. No other buyers came forward. I missed her and the kids so much. I remember our last conversation. She told me not to bother. She would be fine. She did not want to see me again, ever.
I was so lost. I flipped out. Showed up at her mothers where she was staying. Drove 8 hours to learn she had found another. Heart broken, and alone. I sought purpose in an old hobby of mine, Geo Cacheing, with a twist. I put a random set of coordinates into my GPS, and started walking.
Walking as I was now. In the dark. Save I was much closer to my destination now. Time and perseverance had worn away the distance.
The sun had set. Fog had rolled in. My clothes absorbed the heavy fog, weighing me down with its dampness. Every foot fall seemed to take an eternity. I shivered uncontrollably. I was not well. As I walked on, muffled sounds came to me through the murky darkness. Unseen things lurked out of sight. I saw a light illuminating the fog in the distance. I was approaching a town. The fog gave way to the out line of structures. In the town. The counter on my GPS changed. Three miles. Two miles. One mile. 900 feet. Five hundred. I am on the sidewalk of lighted street. Fog consumes the light. A building looms in the darkness. Most of its structure hidden by the damp fog. I watch the building as my feet draw me nearer. I sigh with relief. Seeing a flickering neon Budweiser sign illuminating a large window, I realize that the building is a bar. I am less then 20 feet away from the coordinates I have been pursuing for so long. If there is a cache here I will be shocked. Still rut around. If there was no cache here. This would be a great place for my? What, epitaph. The world did not deserve it. I look around the front of the building. To my surprise I find a loose brick. I am shocked. I pull the brick out. It is fake. Very clever. What are the odds? I open it. The log note says come in side I am waiting for you. Now I am spooked. I take the note and enter the bar.
In contrast to fog thickened night the bar, dimly lit, seems bright. The room seems large. I had not been inside many buildings since I set out to find this place. I had been in a few buildings over the coarse of my travels. Each time amazed at the size of the indoor spaces. The bar was long. There were more empty barstools than occupied.
One occupied bar stool in particular caught my eye. Upon it sat a man, who had on his lap a cat. He was slowly spooning sugar into a cup of coffee he must have ordered. If it had not been for the cat in his lap the man would not have caught my eye.. That cat though? I had seen before. Or at least one very much like it.
My journey had been full of peril. Several times I had found myself in a tight spot Each time it would seem a black cat, very much like this one, would be a part of that peril. I associated its appearance with danger. Some times the cat was helpful. Some times no. The cat would always seem to vanish as quickly as it appeared. I was weary. Then to, now and again I would dream of black cats while I slept. Not all of my dreams were pleasant. This cat looked up at me. Then started cleaning itself. As the cat seemed to loose interest, the man with the cat took notice of me, as did the bar keep.
"Hey mister we are not a charity here. soup kitchen is that a way." He wavered his thumb directing me the vicinity of the local soup chicken.
"No... I have money. I can pay. "
He lookked at me suspiciously. "All right then, you pay as you go, no tab." I ordered a beer. I handed him my bank card. When the deal was done. I found a booth in a corner where I intended to sit alone hoping to to dispel some of the damp and cold I had gathered from the fog. As I passed the man with the cat on the way to my chosen seat. The man grabbed my arm. All the while stroking the cat with the his other hand, "This contact is illusory", he nods down at his cat, "The cat and I are separated as though by a pane of glass, because man lives in time, in successiveness, while this magical animal lives in the present, in the eternity of the instant." I pull my arm away with just enough force to break his grip. He was talking to me. I shrug, Why me? I mumble a noncommittal sound avoiding eye contact, and look down into the the mug of deep golden amber liquid bar keep had given me. I move on towards my chosen seat.
I hear the man with the black cat voice trail after me. "You don't believe me?"" Touch it, touch the cat." I look over towards the man with the black cat, he has risen from his seat and is walking towards me. He gently cradles the cat as he walks. He has left his coffee on the bar. The man limps slightly.
I don't need this, bull. I look up from my table, booth actually. I don't do bar stools. I need my space. As a general rule I don't drink in public. I don't go any where that is public. I don't like uncontrollable environments. Mainly because I hate situations like these. The crazies. They are every where, and they loved me. Even before I took this hike. Now though I knew. I looked like one myself. I am determined not to escalate this into a whacked out conversation. I'm not going to let it happen, not this time. I'm ready to leave. My thirst unquenched. Dam. I got to get out of here, but the crazy man with the cat is in my path. Dam Dam Dam. I don't want to have to brush pass him. I don't want to give him the opportunity to grab at my arm again.. He has taken the initiative though. He made the first move. Check.
"The cat is not here" Stroke..."Touch it see. Touch it." No place to go, I hesitate then sit back down. I am a captive audience. I empty my mug buying time. While the man with the cat cradled in his arm limps over towards the booth seat opposite. He will come past where I am sitting. Clearing my path towards the exit. I am waiting for this opportunity. But no. The man stops in front of my booth seat check mate.
I sigh with resolve I can get through this. I put on my best game face. I look up at him, he smiles at me. The cat is disinterested. "As I was saying This contact is illusory. The cat and I are separated as though by a pane of glass, because man lives in time, in successiveness, while the magical animal lives in the present, in the eternity of the instant.' Touch it you will see.
I smile up at him, "Sure thing. Magical Cat, um how bout that. Well sir", I always try and speak to the crazies with respect, they sometimes really go off on you if they feel you are making small of them. "I uh wouldn't mind touching your... magic cat. I really wouldn't, but you see I am allergic to cats.
The man interrupts me. "Sir?, huh. How bout that. Don't worry about your allergies, I assure you that the cat is separate from us. In a way he is not here. You cannot truly touch this cat, your allergies in this case do not exist. This in part is my point." He scritches the cat between the ears. The cat purrs with contentment. Obviously feeling the contact. "I urge you to see for yourself." he says
I shake my head back and forth slowly knowing that I am on the loosing end of this conversation. Why don't I just touch the friggen cat. What harm can it do. It might even end this most uncomfortable conversation. But no. I decide not to be man handled. Pressured into touching that strangely familiar animal. I wanted nothing to do with it. I knew that you shouldn't argue with crazies. It never works out. They are always right. Not because they have truth on their side, no, they got something a little more potent then truth, they have the conviction of their own reality. I knew this. Yet I still did not want anything to do with that animal. Presently the animal took interest in me. Looked at the man, then at me and hopped from the mans cradeling arms onto the table surface.
This cat knew no boundaries of etiquette. I tried not to think of its paws on the table. The very paws that I knew inevitably had at one time or another dugg through sand somewhere making potty holes. The dirty paws. Don't think of the dirty paws. It did no good.
The man stood there looking at me expectantly. "It likes you." he stated as a matter of fact. "It may like you more then it likes me." He sighs as if rejected. Mind if I take the seet opposite you?" The cat walked along the tables surface with its dirty paws. It walked towards me. I edged away from it uncomfortably. It took no notice of my discomforture and continued towards my hand which held my empty beer mug. "If you must sir." The man smiled as if he had just found a friend. "Thank you." he said sitting down across from me. His dejection from the cat all but forgotten by him. The cat though was not forgotten, not by me. As the man sat down across from me, the cat made contact. It rubbed against my knuckles which gripped the empty mug . Or did it rub against me? It was the strangest of sensations. As the noncontact of its fir rubbed against my knuckles. I should have felt the hardness of its skull under soft fir beneath skin. I knew that. Because, this is what I expected. I sort of did feel this, but I didn't. It was not there. I felt what I thought I should, but I knew it was a trick of my mind. I looked at the cat then the man surprised. The man nodded approvingly, "I told you."
I sat in astonishment as the cat pushed against my knuckles first its head then the rest of the non existent body rubbed against my knuckles. I mouthed out "how?" I must admit I was freaked out by the cat. I knew if crazy was catchy I would have caught it long ago. That said the cat really wasn't there, oh and yes now I was convinced that it was the same black cat that had haunted me through out the trip. Save it was real, but it wasn't.
The man looked at me with gratitude, "It has been a long time I have waited for another who could accept the truth. Thank you!" I just looked at the man dumbly, when I noticed something odd about him. He was fading as if maybe he had not been there either. Was it the dim ligh in the bar. No I didn't think so. He was fading. He nodded again, "I have searched for you a long time. Please take care of my cat, he really does like you." The man was flickering in and out of existence now." I looked at him dumbly my mouth opening even wider. I must have been pale. I think I stuttered slightly, "Who.. who are you." He looked at me sadly, "I am just a man who had but one love," He looked at the cat with sorrowful affection. "When I died a part of me could not help but worry about my cat. "I could not rest until I found you." "He is a great companion, he really is, take care of h.." With that the man vanished. The cat though, he did not notice the dissapearance. He continued to rub him self against my knuckles. I continued to feel nothing, save for what I thought I should of the contact. It was then I heard the bartender. "Hey you?" I looked around bewildered. I glanced away from the cat and looked at the bartender. Who stood near the still steaming cup of coffee the man with the cat had added sugar to. The Bar keep looked at me and then at the black cat in disgust. "No pets in here mister." I sighed scooped up the cat, and walked out into the night.
I had been walking for days now without stopping. Edgeing ever closer to the coordinates. What is a few days?, when measured against the year I had been traveling. A normal life was long past. What was the point? This was my normal now. I walked until exhausted. Found shelter, collapse exhausted. Woke up exhausted check my GPS for bearings and begin walking again. During my long trek I often thought about the why, and the how I had come to this ragged bare foot state. My feet are hard as leathery shoes now. I remember when I forsook my shoes. I had worn through my 3rd pair, and just didn't bother with a fourth. My feet bled and blistered. That had not deterred me. Eventually that hurt went away. My life had become one of simple needs. I needed to walk. I needed batteries for my GPS. I needed food.
I was closing in on my destination. With stoic determination I picked up my pace. Once there I would rest triumphant. With one goal completed, I would rest. My heart no longer ached for my losses. Like the blisters and bleeding of my feet. My heart ache went away. It was now hard and leathery like my feet. I was a walking dead man. All joy in life, gone.
I still don't know why it happened. She moved back home to New England with the kids. I was to follow as soon as the business of selling the old house was finished. Everything was well., until the sale fell through. No other buyers came forward. I missed her and the kids so much. I remember our last conversation. She told me not to bother. She would be fine. She did not want to see me again, ever.
I was so lost. I flipped out. Showed up at her mothers where she was staying. Drove 8 hours to learn she had found another. Heart broken, and alone. I sought purpose in an old hobby of mine, Geo Cacheing, with a twist. I put a random set of coordinates into my GPS, and started walking.
Walking as I was now. In the dark. Save I was much closer to my destination now. Time and perseverance had worn away the distance.
The sun had set. Fog had rolled in. My clothes absorbed the heavy fog, weighing me down with its dampness. Every foot fall seemed to take an eternity. I shivered uncontrollably. I was not well. As I walked on, muffled sounds came to me through the murky darkness. Unseen things lurked out of sight. I saw a light illuminating the fog in the distance. I was approaching a town. The fog gave way to the out line of structures. In the town. The counter on my GPS changed. Three miles. Two miles. One mile. 900 feet. Five hundred. I am on the sidewalk of lighted street. Fog consumes the light. A building looms in the darkness. Most of its structure hidden by the damp fog. I watch the building as my feet draw me nearer. I sigh with relief. Seeing a flickering neon Budweiser sign illuminating a large window, I realize that the building is a bar. I am less then 20 feet away from the coordinates I have been pursuing for so long. If there is a cache here I will be shocked. Still rut around. If there was no cache here. This would be a great place for my? What, epitaph. The world did not deserve it. I look around the front of the building. To my surprise I find a loose brick. I am shocked. I pull the brick out. It is fake. Very clever. What are the odds? I open it. The log note says come in side I am waiting for you. Now I am spooked. I take the note and enter the bar.
In contrast to fog thickened night the bar, dimly lit, seems bright. The room seems large. I had not been inside many buildings since I set out to find this place. I had been in a few buildings over the coarse of my travels. Each time amazed at the size of the indoor spaces. The bar was long. There were more empty barstools than occupied.
One occupied bar stool in particular caught my eye. Upon it sat a man, who had on his lap a cat. He was slowly spooning sugar into a cup of coffee he must have ordered. If it had not been for the cat in his lap the man would not have caught my eye.. That cat though? I had seen before. Or at least one very much like it.
My journey had been full of peril. Several times I had found myself in a tight spot Each time it would seem a black cat, very much like this one, would be a part of that peril. I associated its appearance with danger. Some times the cat was helpful. Some times no. The cat would always seem to vanish as quickly as it appeared. I was weary. Then to, now and again I would dream of black cats while I slept. Not all of my dreams were pleasant. This cat looked up at me. Then started cleaning itself. As the cat seemed to loose interest, the man with the cat took notice of me, as did the bar keep.
"Hey mister we are not a charity here. soup kitchen is that a way." He wavered his thumb directing me the vicinity of the local soup chicken.
"No... I have money. I can pay. "
He lookked at me suspiciously. "All right then, you pay as you go, no tab." I ordered a beer. I handed him my bank card. When the deal was done. I found a booth in a corner where I intended to sit alone hoping to to dispel some of the damp and cold I had gathered from the fog. As I passed the man with the cat on the way to my chosen seat. The man grabbed my arm. All the while stroking the cat with the his other hand, "This contact is illusory", he nods down at his cat, "The cat and I are separated as though by a pane of glass, because man lives in time, in successiveness, while this magical animal lives in the present, in the eternity of the instant." I pull my arm away with just enough force to break his grip. He was talking to me. I shrug, Why me? I mumble a noncommittal sound avoiding eye contact, and look down into the the mug of deep golden amber liquid bar keep had given me. I move on towards my chosen seat.
I hear the man with the black cat voice trail after me. "You don't believe me?"" Touch it, touch the cat." I look over towards the man with the black cat, he has risen from his seat and is walking towards me. He gently cradles the cat as he walks. He has left his coffee on the bar. The man limps slightly.
I don't need this, bull. I look up from my table, booth actually. I don't do bar stools. I need my space. As a general rule I don't drink in public. I don't go any where that is public. I don't like uncontrollable environments. Mainly because I hate situations like these. The crazies. They are every where, and they loved me. Even before I took this hike. Now though I knew. I looked like one myself. I am determined not to escalate this into a whacked out conversation. I'm not going to let it happen, not this time. I'm ready to leave. My thirst unquenched. Dam. I got to get out of here, but the crazy man with the cat is in my path. Dam Dam Dam. I don't want to have to brush pass him. I don't want to give him the opportunity to grab at my arm again.. He has taken the initiative though. He made the first move. Check.
"The cat is not here" Stroke..."Touch it see. Touch it." No place to go, I hesitate then sit back down. I am a captive audience. I empty my mug buying time. While the man with the cat cradled in his arm limps over towards the booth seat opposite. He will come past where I am sitting. Clearing my path towards the exit. I am waiting for this opportunity. But no. The man stops in front of my booth seat check mate.
I sigh with resolve I can get through this. I put on my best game face. I look up at him, he smiles at me. The cat is disinterested. "As I was saying This contact is illusory. The cat and I are separated as though by a pane of glass, because man lives in time, in successiveness, while the magical animal lives in the present, in the eternity of the instant.' Touch it you will see.
I smile up at him, "Sure thing. Magical Cat, um how bout that. Well sir", I always try and speak to the crazies with respect, they sometimes really go off on you if they feel you are making small of them. "I uh wouldn't mind touching your... magic cat. I really wouldn't, but you see I am allergic to cats.
The man interrupts me. "Sir?, huh. How bout that. Don't worry about your allergies, I assure you that the cat is separate from us. In a way he is not here. You cannot truly touch this cat, your allergies in this case do not exist. This in part is my point." He scritches the cat between the ears. The cat purrs with contentment. Obviously feeling the contact. "I urge you to see for yourself." he says
I shake my head back and forth slowly knowing that I am on the loosing end of this conversation. Why don't I just touch the friggen cat. What harm can it do. It might even end this most uncomfortable conversation. But no. I decide not to be man handled. Pressured into touching that strangely familiar animal. I wanted nothing to do with it. I knew that you shouldn't argue with crazies. It never works out. They are always right. Not because they have truth on their side, no, they got something a little more potent then truth, they have the conviction of their own reality. I knew this. Yet I still did not want anything to do with that animal. Presently the animal took interest in me. Looked at the man, then at me and hopped from the mans cradeling arms onto the table surface.
This cat knew no boundaries of etiquette. I tried not to think of its paws on the table. The very paws that I knew inevitably had at one time or another dugg through sand somewhere making potty holes. The dirty paws. Don't think of the dirty paws. It did no good.
The man stood there looking at me expectantly. "It likes you." he stated as a matter of fact. "It may like you more then it likes me." He sighs as if rejected. Mind if I take the seet opposite you?" The cat walked along the tables surface with its dirty paws. It walked towards me. I edged away from it uncomfortably. It took no notice of my discomforture and continued towards my hand which held my empty beer mug. "If you must sir." The man smiled as if he had just found a friend. "Thank you." he said sitting down across from me. His dejection from the cat all but forgotten by him. The cat though was not forgotten, not by me. As the man sat down across from me, the cat made contact. It rubbed against my knuckles which gripped the empty mug . Or did it rub against me? It was the strangest of sensations. As the noncontact of its fir rubbed against my knuckles. I should have felt the hardness of its skull under soft fir beneath skin. I knew that. Because, this is what I expected. I sort of did feel this, but I didn't. It was not there. I felt what I thought I should, but I knew it was a trick of my mind. I looked at the cat then the man surprised. The man nodded approvingly, "I told you."
I sat in astonishment as the cat pushed against my knuckles first its head then the rest of the non existent body rubbed against my knuckles. I mouthed out "how?" I must admit I was freaked out by the cat. I knew if crazy was catchy I would have caught it long ago. That said the cat really wasn't there, oh and yes now I was convinced that it was the same black cat that had haunted me through out the trip. Save it was real, but it wasn't.
The man looked at me with gratitude, "It has been a long time I have waited for another who could accept the truth. Thank you!" I just looked at the man dumbly, when I noticed something odd about him. He was fading as if maybe he had not been there either. Was it the dim ligh in the bar. No I didn't think so. He was fading. He nodded again, "I have searched for you a long time. Please take care of my cat, he really does like you." The man was flickering in and out of existence now." I looked at him dumbly my mouth opening even wider. I must have been pale. I think I stuttered slightly, "Who.. who are you." He looked at me sadly, "I am just a man who had but one love," He looked at the cat with sorrowful affection. "When I died a part of me could not help but worry about my cat. "I could not rest until I found you." "He is a great companion, he really is, take care of h.." With that the man vanished. The cat though, he did not notice the dissapearance. He continued to rub him self against my knuckles. I continued to feel nothing, save for what I thought I should of the contact. It was then I heard the bartender. "Hey you?" I looked around bewildered. I glanced away from the cat and looked at the bartender. Who stood near the still steaming cup of coffee the man with the cat had added sugar to. The Bar keep looked at me and then at the black cat in disgust. "No pets in here mister." I sighed scooped up the cat, and walked out into the night.
THE END
Thursday, July 7, 2011
The procrastination monster must feed.
Today is about procrastination. How do I procrastinate? Why do I procrastinate? Well recently I have committed my self to writing daily and to working on the house a little bit every day. Today both projects seem less than appealing. What have I done in lue of those projects? Lets see. First I have organized my Kindle. That took a bit of time. Then of course I found a friend on FB to chat with. Score, looks like I will be recieving a phone call in a bit. Oh yeah the procrastination engine is in full gear.
Well, one 48 minute conversation with a good friend later. She is a published author, and is always fun to converse with. She also teaches a writing class, and has offered to send some of her assignments my way. :) Then another 40 minutes in conversation with a good neighbor. The last one sorta just happened. He was coming over to see if I wanted a table. I didn't but we shared pointers on home maintenance. After that it was about 11:45. Well I figured I should make lunch for the kids before heading up to the attic.
Ha ha. I did it. I spent about two hours up in the attic. Oh and I'm finishing writing this, just after taking a bath. Um, I am finishing this post. After wards I hang out my grungy attic clothes. Oh and I want to put away the dishes before heading to work. Well time to go... and get the rest of my list done...
Yep, I think I put the procrastination monster to sleep. Not be for I fed him though. Lets hope tomorrow goes better. Maybe I won't even give him a chance next time. :)
Well, one 48 minute conversation with a good friend later. She is a published author, and is always fun to converse with. She also teaches a writing class, and has offered to send some of her assignments my way. :) Then another 40 minutes in conversation with a good neighbor. The last one sorta just happened. He was coming over to see if I wanted a table. I didn't but we shared pointers on home maintenance. After that it was about 11:45. Well I figured I should make lunch for the kids before heading up to the attic.
Ha ha. I did it. I spent about two hours up in the attic. Oh and I'm finishing writing this, just after taking a bath. Um, I am finishing this post. After wards I hang out my grungy attic clothes. Oh and I want to put away the dishes before heading to work. Well time to go... and get the rest of my list done...
Yep, I think I put the procrastination monster to sleep. Not be for I fed him though. Lets hope tomorrow goes better. Maybe I won't even give him a chance next time. :)
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
After #trust30, Whats next, by Shad
I really really enjoyed the #trust 30 prompts. I choose to move on though. To work on the many projects that I have started, and yes to start a few new ones.
I am still performing triage on my house. Her name is Corliss by they way. She is a beautiful old house who has seen much better days. Currently I am performing weatherization projects. I've been in the attic for what seems like for ever now. Removing insulation, and vacuuming. I don't think the attic has ever been cleaned. I don't really know why I am going as far as cleaning it, accept for the fact that in it s current state it is unacceptable. Once I have finished cleaning I will use great stuff and seal the drafty areas that lead throughout the rest of the house. Then the insulation all blown off goes back up.
When I moved into Corliss my bu-die and I rewired her, bringing her up to code. This was necessary in order to have the power company install a new meter. While rewiring Corliss I had ripped up insulation half hazardously and never laid the insulation back down properly. Well, I am now, and I think the electric savings on our heating bill will be pay off enough to justify the sweat equity.
As if this project is not enough, I am attempting to write a romance story about a man and his house. LOL. Seriously I am. I figured yesterday while sweating up in that hot attic that the only reason a person would put the kind of labor into something as I have, and am, is for the sheer love of the item in question. I have long romanticized the owning of real estate. Yearned for it. Given up on it. Then watched that hope become a reality. I have read often that one should write about what ones knows. I intend to...
If any one wants to be in my sharing circle. Help critique my story as it develops. I would sure appreciate it. Drop me a line or something. Who knows this could be fun. For now though it is time to head up to the attic. I hope to hear from you.
I am still performing triage on my house. Her name is Corliss by they way. She is a beautiful old house who has seen much better days. Currently I am performing weatherization projects. I've been in the attic for what seems like for ever now. Removing insulation, and vacuuming. I don't think the attic has ever been cleaned. I don't really know why I am going as far as cleaning it, accept for the fact that in it s current state it is unacceptable. Once I have finished cleaning I will use great stuff and seal the drafty areas that lead throughout the rest of the house. Then the insulation all blown off goes back up.
When I moved into Corliss my bu-die and I rewired her, bringing her up to code. This was necessary in order to have the power company install a new meter. While rewiring Corliss I had ripped up insulation half hazardously and never laid the insulation back down properly. Well, I am now, and I think the electric savings on our heating bill will be pay off enough to justify the sweat equity.
As if this project is not enough, I am attempting to write a romance story about a man and his house. LOL. Seriously I am. I figured yesterday while sweating up in that hot attic that the only reason a person would put the kind of labor into something as I have, and am, is for the sheer love of the item in question. I have long romanticized the owning of real estate. Yearned for it. Given up on it. Then watched that hope become a reality. I have read often that one should write about what ones knows. I intend to...
If any one wants to be in my sharing circle. Help critique my story as it develops. I would sure appreciate it. Drop me a line or something. Who knows this could be fun. For now though it is time to head up to the attic. I hope to hear from you.
Friday, July 1, 2011
#Trust30 ;Prompt by Carlos Miceli - "Fault and Change" Response by Shad
I must be myself. I cannot break myself any longer for you, or you. - Ralph WaldoEmerson
"Think of all the things that are not working in your life. That job you don’t like, that relationship that’s not working, those friends that annoy you. Now turn them all on you. Imagine that everything that’s not working in your life, is your fault. How would you approach it? What would you work on to change your life to the state that you want it to be?"
(Author: Carlos Miceli)
This prompt is hilarious. Who else other then yourself is responsible for the ills in you life. No pretending here. Taking responsibility for my life is what I do. What steps will I take to change my life to the state I want it to be. Writing everyday is a good start.
Sorry for the lack of insight here. It is what it is though.
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