Tuesday, October 28, 2008

They haunt me. I don’t understand why or where they come from but they keep coming and everyday there is more. I am talking about stories, ideas that seem to spring to life everytime I start to daydream or stop thinking. And if that is not enough they come to me in my dreams.
If I try to ignore them, they twist themselves around and snake their way into my thoughts. For example, yesterday I have found myself thinking about living in the southwest part of America. Now as soon as I thought that thought, the walls faded, the scenery changed and I see myself as someone else walking in the desert. A lizard peeks its head out from under a rock and a bird lands on top of a cactus. There is a car driving towards me from afar. I know this because I see the dust trail marking its movement. It is someone I know or at least someone I am expecting, a woman whom I’m happy to see.
As she gets out of her car, I see doubt on her face. Before she even speaks I know what she will say, something about why I am here. She means well and cares about me but I know in my heart this is where I am supposed to be. This woman is well dressed and elegant, a long and slender woman with just the right amount of makeup. She could be a TV newswoman or an actress on one of those high fashion shows. I stare into her eyes for a quick quiet moment and her facade fades. She starts beating her fists upon my chest in frustration and I grab her shoulders and pull her into my embrace. She begins to sob uncontrollably, melting into my arms.
The whole scene is surreal to me - I am there and yet I am not there. I feel what this man feels and sees and yet I hear nothing. No words are spoken. And as suddenly as it come to me, this scene fades and I am back in the real world, my wife is asking me something and for a brief moment I am confused and then I know, she is asking if I am ready yet ? I answer yes, a bit on the unsure side about what I am supposed to be ready for and that comes to me - to go to the store - but I am still in shock simply because I retain the memory of being in the desert and I am wondering what to do with it.
“So that’s the why I am here, doc. What can you do for me ?”

Sunday, October 26, 2008

PART TWO OF BUMVILLE MAYORAL RACE

The citizens of Bumville were both surprised, shocked and happy that a woman of Ms. Prudence’s social standing would want to be their vice-mayor. Some wondered if Ms. Prudence even knew where Bumville was located. It must be said that Albertville was located in the rugged, yet posh section of the state, a far cry from the dumpy, yet stinky flatland known as Bumville. (Editor’s note - a far cry is roughly 100 miles away as the crow flies - also the crow flying must be crying and since most crows do not fly in a straight line for more than 100 feet, we really don’t know how far away Albertville is).
In my first interview with Flo Pru (a pet name the media came up with for her), I was shocked and surprised and happy about the extent of Ms. Prudence’s knowledge of Bumville - none. I further shocked and surprised that Ms. Prudence (FloPru to those of us intimate with her) did not even know that she was a vice mayoral candidate of Bumville. This made me happy because you see, this was the kind of shocking scandal that sells newspapers, which also means that as soon as I could type it in, the Nicetown Noisy Shopper ran the article on page one. We sold every newspaper (some twice) we printed that day. It seems the citizens of Nicetown really love to read about how stupid and rotten the people of Bumtown are.
That evening I got a call from the Jones campaign telling me that I had interviewed the wrong Florence Prudence. It seems that I had interviewed Florence Prudence JR and not Florence Prudence, Senior (her mother). It did strike me as odd that a twelve year old was running for vice mayor but I did literally interview FloPru so I told the Jones campaign that I would not print a retraction. I hung up the phone. The next day, while speaking to a congregation at WINES-R-US, candidate Jones accused the news media of having a LITERAL bias. A murmur went through the crowd and I knew things could get ugly because most of crowd was waiting for what they thought was free wine. The flyer that had been printed about this event read like this:
FREE speech at WINES-R-US
GET A TASTE
of what CANDIDATE JONES stands for.


I knew I to go on the offensive yet remain neutral as it says on page three of the journalist’s handbook - always stay out of the way of the mob unless it is you that is inciting them. If you are being blamed then shift the blame to someone else.
(Editor’s note - it also says the same thing on page three of the Politician’s Handbook). I asked Candidate Jones if it was true that he was going to buy drinks for the entire crowd. Candidate Jones smiled a sly smile and commenced to start a two and a half hour speech with the words: I’m glad you asked that question, young man.
The crowd to a man gave it their best college try to stay awake but since none of them had been to college, this try was not very good. I put my tape recorder on record and I went inside and got myself a good stiff one. I came back out to find that Candidate Jones had put his tape recorder on play and was already enjoying a stiff one. One thing led to another and perhaps another, definitely a fifth and after that it all got blurry.
I awoke to find myself amidst a tangle of arms and legs and torsos and someone’s mouth. I recognized both mayoral candidates, Tawny Knees (a local stripper and schoolteacher), Liddy Gordon (local madam and principal), Florence Prudence senior and junior, and Hoyle Davis (local gas station owner). Hoyle being over three hundred pounds of lazy gas station attendant is credited with inventing self-serve gas.
I took a picture via my cell phone camera, checked my stock portfolio, bought a book online and then filed my story with the paper all without leaving bed. Is there nothing these new phones can’t do ?
The headline read:
CANDIDATES in BED WITH BIG HOYLE

(END OF PART TWO)

Saturday, October 25, 2008

Yet another story's start

But for a pretzel, a twisted pretzel, I might have made it. It had to be a soft pretzel too or else I might have passed it by, but of course it was soft and warm and it was giving off an aroma that said bite me, bite me please. Up until that point in my life, I never knew food could talk to me. Or dogs or rocks or even bugs.
My date was laughing at me, at the way I looked I suppose, but being in the middle of this experience I could only guess what I looked like. What I have pieced together from talking to her and a few other friends who were there that night is this: I was normal self and suddenly I was freaking out, eyes bulging in disbelief, mouth wide open going ‘ahahahah ohhh’ and wildly spinning in circles until I fell over asleep. My friend Bob stated loudly to the party that he wanted whatever I just had. Everyone laughed. When no one could wake me up, they put me to bed in the spare bedroom where everyone had dumped their coats. It was an informal party so coats when on the floor and I went on the bed. This was standard operating procedure amongst my friends - whoever passes out gets put to bed until you were the last person standing. If that happened then you were on your own.
Meanwhile, I was having quite a unique experience. I had not passed out - I had stepped completely out of my body. But I think I need to talk a little about how I got into this situation or in reality out of myself. I had not been drinking, although I did have a beer in my hand. I had been gabbing with a few people, doing a mingling thing when I noticed a bizarre crystal sitting on the shelf in the hallway. It looked like a quartz crystal but it was blueish green with flecks of silver, gold, copper and something red imbedded inside. I stood in the hallway gawking at it for at least two minutes, well maybe not exactly two minutes but let’s just say awhile. I heard a soft feminine voice say ‘go ahead and touch it’ and I assumed this was the voice of the hostess. I had never met her but I had heard that she was into some weird stuff and this crystal looked pretty strange. As it turns out, I was not hearing the voice of hostess. If it had been her talking, she would have told me to be careful, to be very careful, because that was no ordinary crystal.
But it wasn’t her talking and I was not very careful because it is my nature to carefree and to throw caution to the wind (whatever that means). I reached out and grabbed the crystal and would have brought it up to my eyes for a closer look, except that the electric jolt I received when I grabbed the crystal made me let go of it almost instantaneously. It was at that point that something amazing happened - I caught the crystal before it hit the ground (or floor).
Granted, there was carpet in the hallway but it was not really plush carpet, just your old basic apartment carpet which means it was thicker than a bare floor but not by much. So it goes without saying that if the crystal was valuable (say antique road show valuable *), it would have broken into several much less valuable pieces and I would have had to either find someone else to take the blame or I would have had to teleport myself to anywhere else in the apartment before someone noticed the Crystal was broken. But I was saved from quick thinking by even quicker action via my left hand. Normally, I would have never been able to catch that stone but for some reason, time seemed to slow down for me. I thought ‘hand catch that thing’ and to my surprise it did. My hand moved so fast that I was able to watch the crystal fall gently into it. I held the crystal in my hand for a few moments more while I battled my disbelief over what had happened. Numbly, I put the stone back onto the shelf where I got it and looked around to see if anyone had seen me touch it. It was then that I remembered the voice that told me to touch it in the first place. Since there was nobody to my left, I assumed that the mystery lady was on my right. I turned and tried to sound cool.
“I’’ll bet you don’t see that everyday.” I said to empty space. I turned completely around, a whole three hundred and sixty degrees. My mouth was open. There was no one there. It was at this point that my mind said ‘dude, she probably went to tell the hostess you touched that rock. You better get into the main party, pronto. And act like nothing happened. Be cool, man.’
I repeated the words to myself as I went into the kitchen. Be cool, nothing happened. I grabbed a beer from the sink and twisted it open.
“Good choice,” said the dog, “hey, can you get me a piece of cheese ?”

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

Crazy About Tim

We are the perfect couple. That is what I am thinking, while I am driving, while the tunes are blasting in my head, and while DanE is sleeping next to me. Thank God for ipods.
The rain mists up the window and forces me to turn on the wipers. I wish this was a better car, at least a car with intermittent wipers, then I would not have to keep turning them on and off. I have to do this because the rain is so light, an in-between rain, not heavy enough to keep the wipers going but heavy enough to mist up the windshield every minute or so. On and off. The repetitious routine keeps me from truly sinking into the world of sound as provided by the Moody Blues. I think about how their name is misleading - they never played the 'Blues' and I felt they were never all that moody either. And as far I know, they were never affiliated with the Moody Bible Institute. But they play the perfect type of driving songs for me now, simple meldodies with easy to sing along words. So I listen and I sing to myself.
Ride, ride my seesaw. Just what the hell does that mean ? I don't really know and I don't really care. I am two hours into my turn at driving and I have four hours to go. The night shift, the graveyard shift to be specific. I can do it in my sleep, so to speak - just give me my tunes, my coffee and my road. Ahead lies who knows what but for now I am in a piece of heaven, meditative heaven, there is no one else around save for the occasional truck or two and not many of them either. I am alone with my thoughts, DanE's soft snoring, and my tunes which nicely muffle out most unwanted sounds, i.e. DanE's night noises. I thought young girl's weren't supposed to snore. Another illusion shattered.
I wonder what she is dreaming about or if she is dreaming at all. I am not that type of person. I don't dream. Yet, here I am for some reason driving somewhere west of Omaha, somewhere past midnight, speculating on tomorrow.
The message had been simple : " Hey come get me - Tim'. At least mine was. DanE got a much more involved one, about how he was in Montana (long story), how he had done what he came to do and now needed a ride back home. He told her to check with me and for both of us to come get him. He also left some very vaguse directions on how to find him.
'Drive into Tuba (res. town) and go into the mini-mart and ask for two shoes." that was all he wrote. I tried responding to the email, you know sending replys but nothing - no answer no acknowledgement that the message got thru, no error message, no nothing.
Lighning flashes in front of me, nothing to worry about, it is so far away there is no thunder and it stays in the sky. It is one of numerous flashes I have seen in the last hour. I wonder if I am going to drive into a storm but somehow the lightning stays distant. It is as if it were moving the same speed and path I am taking. I am not worried about it, I just watch. Red flash, blue flash, again and again. The light show of lightning. Somehow that reminds of Tim - he has flashes of brilliance, then he is gone somewhere trying some new way to be healed or perfect or spiritual. To me Tim is perfect but like the lightning in the tonight's sky, he is always distant and no matter how fast I go, I can never get there - there being in Tim's life for more than a few hours.
I should feel threatened by DanE, Tim's latest attempt at a girlfriend but I am not. I have seen about seven DanEs come and go, course they are not all named DanE. Some didn't even have names - goth girl and Elvis girl come to mind but they all had a few things in common - 1) they never ended the relationship, Tim did , 2) They all were different from one another, almost totally, as if Tim decided I am going to date a tall girl to see what that is like and then there was Jenna all six feet two of her (Tim is five ten) or the time Tim decided to date a Black girl and Tina appeared (she was my favorite). Kim was Asian (Japanese-Korean-Chinese mix if you can believe that) and very snotty but not as snotty as Trisha who was Tim's first. He was never in love with her but always fascinated by her. He couldn't believe that anyone would treat people as rudely as she did.

About Me

I am a crabby old man who hates everything
or
I am a tiny wonderer in a large world
or
I am a young hippie tree-hugger
or
I am a mid-life crisis disaster area.
or
I am an attitude of stillness waiting for a wind.
or
I have not decided yet.