Doesn't anybody leave comments anymore? Sheesh. I give and give to you people, and you just take and take. (sniffle sniffle) ...hello?

I know you're out there. I can hear you reading.

I won't bite. I promise. Unless you ask nicely.

Hello?

I guess I'll just leave this plate of cookies here and just walk away and leave them unattended...

AH-HA! Caught you. HA! You fell for my clever ruse. I have deftly out-witted you, dear reader, with a simple trap, baited with baked goods. Mwa-hahahaha!

What do you have to say for yourself? Well?

Trapped in the jail of her arms
her scent
her taste

Is it a jail? No, it couldn't be. It's so warm and comforting. It feels like home
...but, it's not really here, is it?
Only in my dreams
my imagination
no, neither of those...
In my memory.

I am living in a warm and comforting place that exists only in my memory.

It's not here and now
It's only then and there
It may be again
but still, not now. Not now. Not now.

For now I am trapped in it.
Trapped by my own desire to remain here... or is it there? Then?

Warm and comforting though it may be, I am trapped in it. I don't want to leave.

But for how long?

Stalker

Recently I have been doing a lot of mental inventory. Been thinking a lot about my past, especially past relationships. Then I remembered a non-relationship that is just really a feel-good story for all ages. Not really. It's actually creepy as hell. Enjoy.

To preserve her dignity, let's call her Tina. I'm not kidding with that title of the post either. She was a stalker. It was scary. Just in case you think I have a swelled head and I'm exaggerating, let me tell you the key ot understanding the story:

I went on one date with this girl. ONE. Ever.

We made out a little bit that night, but there were just no sparks, so I was going to do what any guy would do in that situation and just not call her again. I know I know, totally immature, but I was only 19 years old at the time, cut me some slack.

Anyway, within the first week after that date she called every day... several times a day... and got weepy and needy on my answering machine. One day I got home and there were 5 messages in a row. The first was "Hi, how are you. Let's hang out" and the rest got progressively more emotional until the fifth one was "I don't think you're taking this relationship as seriously as I am!" WHAT!? I still remember feeling chills on that one, and wondering if there was a hidden camera and it was all just a sick joke.

It wasn't.

The worst was when I caught her driving past my house just to see if I was there. Nope, wait, that wasn't the worst. The worst was one time I was on a date at my house with a new girl, a girl I actually liked. We were watching some rented DVD's and Tina showed up at the door and walked on in and sat down and joined us. I was too nice to yell the obscenities that were brewing below the surface, and plus I didn't want to make a bad impression on my actual date. After that night she left a message talking about how if I didn't stop seeing other girls I was going to lose her. CREEPY!

I would later find that my now ex-wife was friends with her at the time. Tina would go to her for advice about this guy that she had been "dating". Little did she know that Tina was nuttier than a squirrel. It was at my ex-wife's prompting that she used the phrase "you're not taking this relationship as seriously as I am."

Small world. I also came to find that my best friend at the time was working with the guy she stalked before she met me. Sergio was simultaneously relieved for himself, but frightened for me when he found she had weened herself off of him in favor of me.

Eventually she got over it and I never heard from her again. For reasons unrelated to her I moved and changed phone numbers, and that is when she finally disappeared. That may be why I never heard from her again, but one can only hope she gave up before that happened.

Not sure why I shared that story. Just thought it might make an interesting read.

Easy Rider

Why in the name of Jeff is this movie considered a classic? It is slow, boring and the characters are only moderately likable. Nothing really happens and (SPOILER ALERT) when our main characters are murdered in the end it is simultaneously out of the blue, and not at all surprising, it carries no real meaning, and you kind of really don't care, because they were hard to identify with anyway.

Sure, it has something to say. The 1960's counterculture biker guy was a free spirit, and in the deep south they see that as something to be feared and hated.

Okay, so what?

I will say that Jack Nicholson's small role is great, but it's Jack, isn't it? There's no small roles where he's concerned. And the crazy-as-hell montage when they drop acid near the end is what I've always imagined acid must be like. That was fun.

But why why why would you want to make sequals/prequals out of this? There are no unanswered questions. I couldn't care less what kind of families these guys grew up in, or what wars they fought in. And, by the way, even if you haven't heard of them yet, the movie is being franchised. I should know, I'm in the prequal.

Why?

This Is Not Plagiarism

It's been a while since I last looked at Guillermo's blog. A whim grabbed me today, so I followed it. I am very glad I did.

He wrote a passage about someone whom he had hurt that rang so true with what I've been trying to say lately. I felt fully like somebody understood how I've been feeling these past couple weeks. So, I decided to steel it... well, not really, because I just told you where it comes from. Below are his words, but the names are changed to fit my needs.

Thank you Guillermo. I hope you don't mind.

A long way away, there is a time and place where I have never caused Kim pain. Wherever that place is, that distant Joey hears Kim's voice, tries to call out across the possibilities that have set like concrete.

That distant Joey has injured hands from scrabbling against the dual barrier of time and regret.

Perhaps this, too, shall pass. I hope it is soon. Memory is vulnerable and I wish to keep some untainted. I have need of them yet.

"Come Over Here And Sit On Big Daddy's Lap"

I just got back from going to The Rhythm Room in downtown Phoenix with a few friends. There was a jazz band playing tonight. They weren't great, but they were pretty good. But I'll tell you what was great: the singer. Pete Pierson.

Picture a very large black man approximately sixty years of age in a bright scarlet suit with a matching scarlet fedora. He fills the room when he walks in, and you just know without anyone telling you that he is the singer.

He is the walking embodiment of pure old-school soul. All charm and deep south sass, the man is a treat to watch. At one point he actually came down onto the floor and began singing to the ladies. And we're not talking like singing cheezey love-song lyrics to them, no no. This was improvisational jazz, so they were imporvisational lyrics. He actually sang the title of this post to them:

"Come Over Here And Sit On Big Daddy's Lap"

And as silly as it looks on paper, he actually managed to make it sound a little charming, in a silly way, but still charming. And the ladies did it! They sat in his lap. And kissed his cheek. And posed for a few pictures. It was so much fun to see him having so much fun at his job.

There's something magical about this man. He has a power that few men do. The only others that I have seen that have a similar magnetic glow are religious figures like Desmond Tutu and The Dalai Lama. Maybe he missed his calling. He could have been a magnificent preacher with that set of lungs he's got on him.

Hiatus Again

In the last few days I have posted and deleted at least three posts that I can remember, maybe more. I am in a very unpleasant state lately, and as such I am sharing too much. I posted things in hopes that she would read them, but realized that even if she did they would probably just make her mad.

I left up the two posts below only to help explain the hiatus.

As was the case last time I did this, I will try not to post again until I have something positive to report. In the meantime, know that I wish love and light to everyone reading. And have a happy Thanksgiving.

Me: Universe!? Hey, universe, you big %$#@! Answer me!

Universe: Hmm? Oh, hello there. What is it? What can I do for you?

Me: Don't you smile at me, you cheeky bastard! You aren't following the rules.

Universe: Rules?

Me: Yeah, the rules. The rules that you taught me. The rules as I know them.

Universe: And what rules would those be, my child?

Me: The rules, damnit, the rules! I know I had a rocky past, but I made a vow. I made a vow to stop choosing drama over happiness. I also made a vow to never lie again, and to spend as long as I needed to making up for the drama and the lies from before. I know I started off doing everything wrong, but now I want so desperately to do it all right.

Universe: ...I'm sorry, I don't understand. So what is your question?

Me: I told you, the rules, damn you! Karma, The Golden Rule, whatever you want to call it. I've been doing right by everyone, I really have. I have released my temper problem to the four winds, I listen more, I don't lie, I'm a good brother, a good lover and a good friend, but nobody seems to notice, do they? She's still gone, isn't she? She still looks at me and sees a possible monster. So, that, do you hear me? That is my question!

Universe: I see. Well, my child, you have it right... sort of. Those are not the "rules," as you call them, but they're more of a guideline, really. They aren't strictly enforced, and just because you follow them, doesn't necessarily mean that someone else may even be aware of them. Rules are more for games, like chess, but this is life. In chess, a rook can only move straight sideways, and that is forever so. That is a rule. In life you might have a rook on your side and then the opposing king may lean down and whisper in his ear, and now your rook is with the other side, and moving on the diagonal.

Me: So, what can I do?

Universe: You are already doing it. Live a life that you think is a good one. Strike a healthy balance of upholding your new-found principles, without being too inflexible, and hope for the best. If she's going to come around, she will.

Kim is gone.

She hit me. A couple times. She told me she hates me. She doesn't even want me in her life at all.

And I deserved every bit of it.

About a year ago I made some very ugly and hurtful choices. I manipulated two people over a great length of time. The reality of the situation was I was in love with one of them, with Kim, and I was just too scared to really give in to it. To deal with this fear I created an obstacle for myself. I convinced myself that I was in love with them both, and couldn't decide between them. From there I began to lie. I think the fear-tactics were if I could keep them both going then I didn't have to actually commit to either. And when lying got me backed into a corner I'd lie some more. That tangled web saying is more true than you know. I wove a web alright, and eight months later I hanged myself on it, but then I'm jumping ahead.

In the end of the mess I got caught. It took me FAR too long, but I made the choice I always should have. Kim is the sexiest and smartest and funniest and most fun woman I have ever known. She made me work for it, and warned me that occasionally she might lash out about it, but she said she did love me and wanted it to work out.

From that moment on something was wrong. Kim kept the specifics to herself, but when we'd fight there was something new. There was this white-hot, bitter rage that I had never seen in her before and it would break loose during even the smallest of fights. Again, I deserved it, but we should have known then. She clearly never got past it. Even if she did love me and really did want to make it work, over time that was chipped away by what I had done. As of tonight it was all gone.

I am more sorry than words can contain for what I did. Even if I never see Kim again I will continue to be sorry for the rest of my life. We were seeing each other for a good solid couple months before I started to ruin it, and those first couple months were wonderful. We played video games, we'd talk till all hours, and the "private moments" were the best of my life (that never changed). My heart is broken wide open that because of my bullsh*t we won't get to see that happy beginning through to the happy ending we should have.

In my heart I want her to come back, but in my head I know that unless she can move past what I did, it will just be more white-hot rage and neither one of us wants that.

Maybe some day, The Monkey and Sweet Cheeks can see eye to eye. But not today.

An excerpt from I, Monkey: A Memoir

"Oh my god!" I shouted
"No."
"You can talk!"
"Yes."
"You're just like me!"
"Yes... er, well, no."
"No?"
"Well... sort of."
"Sort of?"
"They cheated."
"They? Who the hell are they?"
To this he responded by momentarily lowering his eyes to his lap. When he raised them again he had a mischeivous twinkle that he not been there before. Slowly and deliberately he drew back his hood, revealing one of the more grotesque things I have ever seen. Where his scalp should be stood a thick glass dome, and underneath, plainly visible was the surface of his brain!
Immediately I got sick over the side of my chair.
"Don't worry. I am not offended. I get that a lot."

Doing NANOWRIMO again this year. Started late and I'm WAY behind. So far I'm up to 7,277 words.

Click the link to see what the hell I'm talking about. And wish me luck. It's my third attempt and I am going to finish this year. Oh yes, make no mistake, I will finish.

Phew

That was fast.

Sorry, the melodramatic storm has passed. I feel much better now. Got it out of my system, had a beer, and I feel great.

A Rough Week Just Got Rougher

I know, I know. In the not-too-distant past I was prone to very dramatic and emotional displays on my blog... and in life for that matter. I've found a calm lately that I am very fond of. I have found that I like being happy much better, but I've had a couple pieces of some bad news this week. Please pardon the gloomy attitude while I explain.

Recently John and I have been trying to build a company to squeeze into this massive new "green" market that has picked up momentum the last couple years. My Dad, who is a property manager for a very rich community out in Mesa offered us our first big contract doing a big solar installation where he works. The job would mean thousands for us, right off, and hopefully a lot of attention from his residents which might mean a lot of future business as well.

We poured our hearts and souls into a bid proposal for him a few weeks back. It was a big hit. We took turns outlining all the pros and cons of the various options available, we had visual aids of the products we'd be installing, and I even made some mock-ups in Photoshop of what they might look like when installed in his community. He was impressed, and proud, and I have never been happier. I've always felt like my Dad and I don't connect as much as I'd like, and for the first time in quite a while I felt like I reached into his world a little and I actually felt like I fit in and it was nice. Everyone is always hoping for parental approval on some level, and I had gained it.

Time for this project has become a scarce commodity since that night. There was actually even a gap wherein John and I were both so busy we played phone tag nearly every day for two solid weeks! How can we run a fledgling business when we can't even find time to talk?

Last night he and I conferred and made a very painful decision. Painful for me anyway. We agreed that our day jobs were now demanding more and more of our time, and we each seemed to be waxing and waning in our ability to drive this thing forward. Without the ability to see it through, the choice was clear.

Today, with a heavy heart I had to write a letter to my Dad withdrawing our bid proposal and announcing the dismantling of our short-lived company. After sending it to him through email I called him just to follow up. I felt so humiliated. I felt like whatever glow I had gained in my Dad's eyes I had just tarnished it, torn it to shreds and pissed all over it. I made sure that he had no idea of my pain, but I was fighting back tears the entire conversation.

As we all know I have had Dad issues on and off for years. My teen years were kind of traumatic for the both of us, he and I. Today they seem to be resurfacing. I just feel like sh*t. I feel embarassed and frustrated. I feel like I'm sixteen again, and hurting because of a rift between he and I that I was just making worse with every passing day...

And just now I have a new problem. I'm not going into detail just yet, but the next couple days may not be very pleasant for me. I've been saying for a while now that no day is a bad day, and I still definitely believe that. But on this day I'm just not feeling so good.

This too shall pass.

A War Story

WARNING: Not For The Faint Of Heart

I was listening to NPR today and they did a really nice piece about the Vietnam Memorial Wall in Washington. I guess today marks 25 years since it was built. They told interesting stories about items left there over the years by people trying to heal.

Listening to all this reminded me of a speaker that came to my school when I was in about sixth grade. Holly Duncan (I don't know why I remember her name... I probably had a crush on her) brought her dad in to speak during our history unit on Vietnam. His stories moved a room full of sixth graders to awe-filled silence, and if you have ever worked with kids, that is no small feat.

He was a medical officer on a Med-Evac helicopter. Some of his stories were fairly mundane, day-to-day kind of stuff, but even the most mundane of war stories are still interesting. And some were even funny. All those stories are long forgotten to me. Only one stands out.

They were on a pick-up mission. Some poor soldier was hurt pretty bad and lying in a field. They swooped in and picked him up without a hitch, and were back in the air in no time at all.
Once they started to work on him they discovered that he was delirious from his injuries. At first he was tame enough, but then they began to realize that the poor guy thought he had been captured by the Viet Cong. He got belligerent, and Mr. Duncan watched in horror as the guy grabbed the pins out of the grenades on his harness and hurled them out the open side of the chopper.

What happened in the next couple seconds will haunt Holly's Dad for the rest of his life. He acted from pure gut-instinct. Without even a second's thought he grabbed the wounded soldier by his harness straps and heaved him out the side of the airborn helicopter. A split second later the grenades detonated into the side of the chopper, hitting them with a barrage of shrapnel and gore. The copter was damaged so badly that they had to put down again and await pickup themselves, but fortunately for them nobody was seriously hurt.

That poor soldier cast his lot when he dumped those pins, and Mr. Duncan saved his own life and the lives of all of his crew mates with his fast action. But, like I said, a nation may not have a conscience, but an individual does. Standing there, before a room full of awe-struck sixth graders, Mr. Duncan openly wept over what he had done. He wept for the feeling of helplessness. He wept for not being able to save that man. And he wept for the memory of when he looked Death square in the eye and said "Not yet. Not today. Not me."

Those of us who were not silent were only making a sound because we too were choked up. Holly rushed up to the podium and threw her arms around her father, telling him how proud she is of him. It was one of the most honest and real moments I have ever seen in my life, and I will always be thankful that I was there to see it. I don't know that I will ever forget it.

Oh, Rudy, Rudy, Rudy...

Rudy Giuliani has been publicly endorsed by Pat Robertson, and worse than that Giuliani publicly accepted the endorsement!

As if Rudy didn't bring a nasty enough to taste to my mouth before, now he's backed by a man who actually believes (and has publicly said) that the people of New Orleans got what they deserved with Hurricane Katrina because they are such a haven for sin and depravity. He said it was God's way of expressing his disapproval.

REALLY!? Okay, then why hasn't the ground opened up and swallowed Las Vegas whole at some point in the last 50 years? I mean, surely Vegas has New Orleans beat for depravity, no? Or does the Christian God approve

Anyway, a hate-filled man like Robertson who masquerades as a love-filled Christian counts as ANOTHER point against Giuliani. After I heard an audio quote from Giuliani last week announcing that we Americans have "the best health care system in the world" I thought I couldn't think any less of the man. He clearly hasn't talked to a sick person, or better yet a poor sick person, or a doctor, or a nurse, or paid attention to all the bipartisan praise handed to the documentary SICKO, or noticed that we actually ranked 37th IN THE WORLD on health care, which I pointed out in an earlier post. The U.S. is the only major industrialized nation in the world lacking universal healthcare access.