Friday, March 26, 2004

A few more random words as I butcher the english language.

A dark sky hanging gloomily over some trees. A faint glow in some clouds as the moon tries to pierce the midnight shroud covering this land. A lone road of black pavement that twists and wraps around rocks a contrast to the raw forest surrounding it. Trees that have been there for centuries trying to tear apart the road slowly one inch at a time. The silence in the forest complete wrapping up all the land complete with the dark sky above. Off in the distance the perfection broken by a small glow. A roar of a motor growing louder forcing itself to be heard throughout the forest. The glow gets bigger and the motor gets louder while it twists along the road. Animals flee and hide from this monster. A few watch from their hiding place seeking to know what this creature is after. The road takes the glow behind some rocks and for a moment it disappears things return to what it was before like nothing happened. Then it appears out of nowhere bright lights bathing the land in light while the rumble of the motor shaking the ground. For a moment the light gets brighter and brighter while the sound keeps increasing in volume. Then quickly it is gone. Down the road further and it gets taken behind another hill. The darkness reclaims its forest and the monster is gone.

Thursday, March 25, 2004

Figured I would try and work on something. So I wrote the same thing twice. Perhaps next time I will cut-N-Paste rather than wasting time on such. I wonder if letters were alive if they would protest my use of them. Would they be angry that I wasted thier ability rather than letting someone else create with them. Would they mock me like my eyes do when I look in the mirror? Perhaps it is best otherwise I would probably write more with a vengance knowing I am killing any future these letters have of being in something decent.

The engine stopped in the middle of its cycle. A foot went down to the ground and a kickstand followed suit. The bike leaned over to the left a bit as someone got off of it. A pulling of the key out of the ignition and customary removal of the helmet reveals a young man with a bit of stubble on his chin. A grim look in his eyes and anger in his steps as he starts walking towards the door. Determination filling his hands along with the keys as he puts it into the door and unlocks it. Anger and restraint as he opens the door slowly and closes it behind him with it already locked. The door snaps shut and a light flicks on. The helmet soon abandoned on a hook along with a leather jacket. Steps echoing through the hallway until they reach a kitchen. Another light and a door opening as a hungry figure peers into the ice box seeking something to sate his hunger. Sadly nothing there to sate his anger. Reaching in and grabbing some old chicken and a beer he makes a plate appear out of nowhere and into the microwave it goes. Set for a minute he pops the top off the beer and wanders around the dinning room and presses a button. The answering lights up and repeats the callings of lost souls seeking him. A ding from the kitchen and he goes back to grab his food. Footsteps echoing through the hallway again on into the living room. A groaning chair as he sits down and ponders the nights events.

The roaring engine stops in silent protest. The lack of gas to it leaving it desiring much more. The bike leans over to the left and a foot stomps on the ground following a kickstand. The groan of the bike as the figure lifted himself off of it. The quick snap of the helmet as he pulled it off of his head. The look of a young man with a few days of growth on his chin looking down at his bike. Pulling the keys out of the ignition he places them in his pocket and heads up to the door. Pulling the keys out quickly and jabbing the correct one into the key hole he unlocks the door and enters. A swift turn and push the door shuts quickly locking behind him. A hook on the wall jabbed into the helmet and a jacket that quickly followed. The footsteps echoing down the hallway with urgency to warn everyone of his arrival. A stop in the kitchen and a opening of a door shining light on the young man. A hand jabs in and grabs a bottle then it comes back again to snatch some left over fried chicken. A plate dragged from its resting place and forced onto the counter so some chicken could take up residence on it. Then a microwave door opened and the food gets stuffed into it. A slam of the door and a quick turning of the dial starts up the heating process. The footsteps slowly enter into the dinning room. A finger hitting a button on a answering machine starts the playback of messages left for him. No movement until after the first message. Then quick steps into the kitchen as he tries to escape the sound of lost souls calling for him from the little mechanical box. The ding of the microwave and the chicken is pulled out. Then to the living room as the footsteps again echo forward warning of his impending arrival. A chair groans as he plants himself in it and leans back in the darkness.

Wednesday, March 24, 2004

So of late i have been staying out too late. Been avoiding my keyboard. Avoiding the mood aquire when I put on my headphones and face myself. A wise man once said,' Once the party is over and everyone is gone your left alone to deal with your demons.' So I have been trying to avoid facing those. Instead I give you something I wrote a while ago. Perhaps next time I will be stronger and will sit and face that which haunts my soul.

He was standing there. The top of a hill looking down. Across the plains he could see miles in every direction. He remembered coming back to this cliff when he was younger. The hours he spent here alone pondering his future and sometimes dreaming of the future. This cliff represented to him the possibilities that lay before him. This cliff was where he wanted to be married. Now this cliff will be his grave. How did it come to this. How did he end up alone again. He gently closed his eyes to ponder the last few days events. Where did he go wrong. Sadly the cliff that had provided him answers in the past did not have any now. It must have started two days ago. The memories flood his mind. He welcomes them knowing it will make what he is going to do a lot easier if he was lost in the past.
Two days ago
It was a cold metal chair. The rain had not touched it yet. The umbrella above it kept out the rain. It did not keep out the cold. Not that it was chilly out. For some reason today his body emitted cold. Everything felt cold today. The chair. The door. Even the bowl of soup he was about to eat. Sense of feeling any warmth was gone. Earlier today when he woke up to a knock at the door he had met his friend Sarah at the door. She had come over looking disheveled at a extremely early hour. She entered quickly and dropped her coat to the floor. Seeing Clint standing there so quietly with concern on his face she quickly hugged him. Holding him in her weary arms letting her tears soak his shoulder. He placed his arms around here and tried to comfort her.
‘Everything will be ok.’
‘No no it wont. I had a dream that I was going to lose you. You have been a friend to me for so long,’
‘Tell you what. Go home get a bit more sleep and we can go out for coffee. There is much I wish to talk about.’
‘There is something I need to tell you now Clint. Something of….’
From behind Clint there is a open door leading to his room. Standing at the door half dressed in a flimsy nightgown is a beautiful woman. This woman looks at Sarah with anger for waking her and Clint up at this hour.
‘What do you need to tell Clint, Sarah?’
Clint looked back and slowly detached himself from Sarah’s arms.
‘Sarah this is Stephanie. She is a friend who stopped over for the evening. Her and her boyfriend broke up’
Sarah looking at both of them with hurt filling her eye. She appears to not remember what she was going to say. The anger starts to fill her up. If she was a tea kettle you could see the steam starting to blow out her ears.
Sarah turned around quickly and ran for the door. Not bothering to pickup her coat. She ran as fast as she could out to her car. Once inside there she reached in her pocket for her keys. Then she realized the keys were still inside her coat. She gets out of her car and starts to cross the street to go back to the apartment.
Clint still in shock stood looking at Stephanie.
‘Why didn’t you stay in the room?’
‘I wanted to see what the noise was about.’
‘I don’t think she realized I was sleeping on the couch.’
‘You better go explain to her Clint otherwise you may lose her.’
Clint quickly ran towards the door. As he nears he can hear some tires squealing as someone tries to apply their brakes. A sickening thud then sounds as if a slab of meat hit a wall. Clint runs out with even greater urgency. The rain makes things hard to see. He almost trips at someone on his doorstep. Looking down he realizes it is Sarah. Broken and bloody she lays there face down. Clint turns his head back towards his apartment.
‘Stephanie call 911!’
He kneels down and puts a hand on Sarah’s shoulder.
‘Sarah can you hear me. Don’t try to move we are getting help.’
Clint gently tries to roll her over to prop her head up some. Her eyes are closed. Her breathing is shallow. There is only a tiny bit of blood but there appears to be something jutting out of her side. It didn’t break the skin. Clint realizes it is probably a rib. Sarah gives a weak cough that sounds more like a reflex than her actually breathing. Clint looks at her lips and there blue with cold with a spot of red on them. He opens her mouth to help her breath and sees it is full with blood.
All he remembers from that point is lots of flashing lights. A numb ride in a police car as they head to the hospital. The blue of the police officer’s uniform as he sat near him. The white of the sheets on the tables. The little gray nametag of the nurse who brought him coffee. The white paper and black text of the forms. Then the silver of a cellular phone on the doctor. The pale face of Sarah’s mom when they were informed she was dead. The shiny steel on the doors as he was being led out. The yellow of the cab giving him a ride home. The pale blue of the sky that stopped raining.
When he got back to his apartment he noticed Sarah’s coat laying there. Still where she had dropped it. The rain long dried off of it. He slowly bends down to pick it up. As he lifts it up to fold it a piece of paper falls out. It appears to be a letter. He bends down and grabs it. As he stands up he unfolds it so he can start reading it.
Dear Clint.
I wrote this letter in case I wasn’t brave enough to tell you in person.
You have been a wonderful friend over the years. I cannot tell you
how much I have enjoyed your company. Over the past few weeks
I have come to realize how much I truly care about you. I don’t know
your feelings for me but I would like to find out. Over the past few
days I have realized that I love you. I wish to spend the rest of my
life with you and not regretting we didn’t take this friendship to
the level of caring and love that it could easily reach. So if I did
chicken out and wasn’t able to tell you in person please meet me
for tea at our favorite little café. There we can talk about it more.
Know though that you will always hold a place in my heart.
With love Sarah.
He read it twice for accuracy. He tried reading it again a third time but wet spots of water started falling onto the paper. As he stood there staring at it until the tears overcame him and the print became unreadable.
If only he would have had Stephanie go to another friends house. If only he would have ran out faster. If only he would have not answered the door. If only he would have told her that he loved her earlier. So many ifs. Now he lost his chance and she lost her life.
A few hours later there he is. Sitting for tea at a little café. The rain started back up. This time it came down as if the world was morning her death. The tea and soup he couldn’t taste. The cup of tea sitting across from him stood there untouched. Going cold. Sarah’s coat hanging on the chair.
The past few days events he realized have come up to this point. Clint stood there looking over the plains. He had a note already written down at his house. He even took a cab as far as he could so he wouldn’t leave his car parked out in the middle of nowhere. He knew this was it. He had played it over in his mind so many times in the past few hours. His direction was chosen. Closer to the edge he inched forward. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath he bent his legs slowly.
‘Love does not die’
Taking a step back Clint quickly looked around. He had definitely heard the voice but couldn’t see where it came from. The meaning of it he pondered. Love does not die. What does that mean. Still he could not find the person who spoke the words. Quickly he thought about the meaning behind them. Of course love dies.
Realization came about slowly. Then he saw. Love does not die. It either gets dim or it gets brighter. Either way like a light filling a room it does not truly die. The flame may go out but it will still sit there waiting again to be relit. The person had died but the love can still live in him.
With a smile on his face and calm in his thoughts. Clint turned away from the cliff. He started walking back towards town. Though it was a few miles back he figured it would give him time to think. Sarah may be gone but he can still go on loving her.

Wednesday, March 17, 2004

So in my effort to try and finish something for once I took a section of a story outline and filled it out with a bit more information. I started out with this....

4. Horrible wake up call. - Young man (Joel ) gets call from brother that his mother has been murdered. Also hears his father is in hospital after a attack.

And here is what I ended up with. It is not much but hey it is 30 minutes of work. I can always polish it up a bit more later down the line.

A small dark room with posters hanging on the walls. A computer desk with two monitors and the humm of a fan inside the case blowing. A few random lights as various electronic objects cast a ominous glow. A bed off to the side with a young man sleeping. Looks to be in mid twenties with long blonde hair. In his mind dancing lights and images that none except he can see. Dreaming peacefully after a hard day of work and promises of a better tomorrow to lift his hopes up. Next to his bed a small wooden stand with slight warping where a water has been left to sit too long. On that stand balancing on three feet is a little phone. Plugged into the wall it is almost prescient. It knew when the call was coming before it started. This time it knew a call was coming so it started its ringing.

Ring, ring! Ring, RING! RING, RING!
A hand detaches from under the blanket and inches towards the ringing phone. It grasps the top part and pulls it from the bottom and withdraws its captured prey into the blanket. A muffled voice is heard under the blanket.

“Hello?” The muffled voice comes out from under the pile of blanket and warmth.

“Joel it is Ben.”

“Ben its late why…”

“Joel something has happened. Mom has been shot and Dad has been attacked. We need you to come down here now.”

“What! Are you joking? Man it is fucking 2 in the morn…”

“Joel this is not a joke. I am calling from the hospital now. Come down we need you.”

“Your serious. Alright. I will be there in a hour and half.”

“Don’t speed Joel. This whole thing smells of pigs. If they out for revenge no need to give them a excuse.”

“No worries man. See you in a hour and half.”

“Joel man I don’t want……”

The phone gets placed back on the receiver. The arm goes back into the blanket and a muffled sob is heard. A moment later a man pulls himself from the bed and heads into the shower. The running of water is cut short as he exits and gets dressed. Standing there in front of the mirror carefully strapping a pistol in a shoulder holster. Pulling tight his belt and then lacing up his shoes. Reaching over to grab a small backpack and throw some clothes inside of it. Along with a box of ammo and a extra clip. A knife and small shaving kit soon join the mix. A reach over to his desk and he grabs his wallet and keys. Quickly opening the wallet to make sure he had some spending cash before he places it into his back pocket. He grabs his coat and heads out of the house giving the door a twist to make sure it is locked. Reaching inside his coat pocket pulling out a wireless phone. A quick call into the work automated system to notify them a death in the family and his absence for a few days. He gets into his little red sports car and starts up the motor. It is now 2:15 and he has 108 miles to travel. Mostly flat land and prairie. The car starts up upset at its slumber being interrupted. Soon it warms up as the motor revs a few times. Loud music shakes the windows as it pulls out of its parking spot and heads out to the dark night.

Tuesday, March 16, 2004

I have reasons for 90% of the things that I do. Sometimes people do not understand nor know the reasons. There are few things I keep secret to myself and wish none to know. There are few requests that I ask of people regarding myself. Sometimes I wish my friends will respect my decision and drop a subject. If they do not are they really my friends or do they just not realize the damage that could be caused? I will never know.

How did I end up in my car? I remember sitting at home listening to some music and pondering something I read online. What did I read? Time seemed to blur reality as I must have gotten up and went out to my car. I remember sitting down in the front seat and started it up. Perhaps it was another memory of me getting into the car that my mind is using to replace the blank moment. So I am out on a road somewhere driving fast in the night. The CD is playing something depressing but for some reason I am angry. Why am I angry? I remember telling myself that I would never drive angry again. I remember that promise exactly and the day I took it. Why am I driving now I feel the gas pedal go down a bit further as I press it. Feeling separated from my body I kind of float and watch me drive the car. Pulling a corner without slowing down enough. The sound of tires squealing and the car groaning in anger. I close my eyes and know I am no longer in control. I focus on the thought or event that would cause myself to go into such a rage. I remember a night of people sitting together. We get together every Wednesday night for food and company. I remember eating some food and overall enjoying myself. Then someone mentioned a date. The group gets silent and they all look at me. All their faces smiling like they knew a secret I had kept and they were so proud of themselves. I look up at the person who said it and I remember asking, ‘What would make you think your correct with that date?’ I remember feeling so angry at these people. My friends why would they not just let it be? Why must they pursue this? One of the very few things I request of them and they trample my wishes like elephants in a field of flowers. The response comes back with a giggle as if it took some great feat to discover that date. ‘I asked a friend in HR. They looked it up and told me. That’s your birthday right? Why did you not tell us?’

I don’t remember if I said anything. Again time became a blur and reality distorted and I end up in my car. I remember starting it up and leaving their house. Not in anger but just leaving because I wished to be alone. I head on home, then park, and enter my house. I remember sitting at my computer starting up some music when they called, ‘Why did you leave? What is wrong?’ Blank spaces appear in my mind when I ponder what responses I gave them. I could think of a hundred retorts for their questions many of them painful and filled with hate. I do not know which I gave them. It is then I remember sitting in my car. Driving fast into a black cloak that covers everything. My lights showing me the road and my fog lights showing that which is beyond the road. My speed increases and I know if a cop catches me I will get my car towed. A warning buzzer kicks in at my car gets closer to redlining. This is the fastest I have ever gone. Driving away from my friends. Should I even bother calling them that? There are very few things I keep secret about myself. There are very few things I will not discuss with them. I ask so little or at least from my end. I try to give them so much but they seemed to want more. I often try to respect their wishes why the fuck can they not respect mine. The buzzer continues and I am finally back in control of my body. It does not matter anymore though. Now I am angry to the core. Filled with violence and hate that has been waiting for this moment. Filled with memories and pent up anger that I held onto inside my heart. I push further on the gas pedal and turn up the music. I know what is coming next. I saw it coming a long time ago when I realized I would die alone in my car. There have been warning signs that I saw and ignored. My whole life has been leading up to this. I hope the wall will always stand as a testament that some things should be left alone and some wishes respected.

I remember being happy. I remember being filled with joy. I remember a moment of peace. The wall will remember my car hitting it head-on at 103mph. My circle of friends will remember my calm face as I walked out without saying goodbye. I will remember anger and rage consuming my soul.
Figured I would post something random.

The moment was sealed with a kiss. After it ended they both stepped back and looked into each others eyes. Passion and love filled both of them a reflection of each others heart. Each filled with the same emotion. The completion of their dreams and hopes over the past few days. The emails, phone calls, and instant messages. Capped off with the dozen roses he bought her and had personally delivered to her workplace. Neither really saw it coming but once the roller coaster started they both held on and let it go. Now they were sitting there in a nice park on a beautiful day. Life and wondrous things were happening around them but neither noticed. Each concerned and looking at the other watching for the telltale sign that this was it. Each waiting for sparks to mysteriously appear out of nowhere and start flashing to signify this moment. No sparks, no flying baby with a bow is seen either, neither is there the shape of a heart in each of their eyes. Just two people who have searched for a long time and have now found what they were looking for. After the moment has passed he blinked first. His ego and upbringing came into effect. He scooted a inch away and resumed his manly attitude.

“So it is nice to see you here. I am glad we were able to meet. Perhaps we can do this again tomorrow for lunch?”

The moment has been lost already but she struggled to hang onto it.

“Um sure same time tomorrow and perhaps we can do dinner that night? I would love to hear more about your funny childhood. I never thought that a catholic school would be so entertaining.”

“Sure meet me here at noon and we can go someplace nice. “

“Alright see you then.”

She leaned forward to kiss him but he leaned a bit to the side. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a friend from work glancing his way. Not wanting to appear less of a man he took control of the situation and did a quick kiss. He smiled and quickly left. As he walked away he did not look back he kept his eyes focused on his car. ‘What would the guys at work think if I told them I fell for a ditz?’ When he gets in his car he turns to look at her and waves but is too far away to see the tears in her eyes.
Figured I would post something random.

The moment was sealed with a kiss. After it ended they both stepped back and looked into each others eyes. Passion and love filled both of them a reflection of each others heart. Each filled with the same emotion. The completion of their dreams and hopes over the past few days. The emails, phone calls, and instant messages. Capped off with the dozen roses he bought her and had personally delivered to her workplace. Neither really saw it coming but once the roller coaster started they both held on and let it go. Now they were sitting there in a nice park on a beautiful day. Life and wondrous things were happening around them but neither noticed. Each concerned and looking at the other watching for the telltale sign that this was it. Each waiting for sparks to mysteriously appear out of nowhere and start flashing to signify this moment. No sparks, no flying baby with a bow is seen either, neither is there the shape of a heart in each of their eyes. Just two people who have searched for a long time and have now found what they were looking for. After the moment has passed he blinked first. His ego and upbringing came into effect. He scooted a inch away and resumed his manly attitude.

“So it is nice to see you here. I am glad we were able to meet. Perhaps we can do this again tomorrow for lunch?”

The moment has been lost already but she struggled to hang onto it.

“Um sure same time tomorrow and perhaps we can do dinner that night? I would love to hear more about your funny childhood. I never thought that a catholic school would be so entertaining.”

“Sure meet me here at noon and we can go someplace nice. “

“Alright see you then.”

She leaned forward to kiss him but he leaned a bit to the side. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a friend from work glancing his way. Not wanting to appear less of a man he took control of the situation and did a quick kiss. He smiled and quickly left. As he walked away he did not look back he kept his eyes focused on his car. ‘What would the guys at work think if I told them I fell for a ditz?’ When he gets in his car he turns to look at her and waves but is too far away to see the tears in her eyes.

Monday, March 15, 2004

Today I woke up with a slight headache and wasted time waiting for it to pass. I thought that I could easily write 500 words regarding the matter. So here is my attempt to write about my morning.

I awake in blinding light. Pain coursing through my body as light hits my eyes and my head pounds. I sit up for a moment only to fall back down into my bed. Falling far into a mess of blankets and warmth. A pillow that catches my head and throws dream stuff in my eyes as I drift off to sleep. The pain fades the further asleep I go and I curl up grabbing more blanket to cover my face.

I wake up again in a world of soft grays and soft things. A muffled beam of light tries to pierce my blanket but fails. Only a slight glow in the path of white fuzzy is the telltale sign that it is day. My head does not pound but I know the instant I remove the blanket it will start. I look at my blanket admiring its protective ability. Keeping me safe from cold winter nights and protecting my eyes from the harsh sunlight as it tries to stab into my brain.

Rolling over to my side to allow a better vantage point to see my clock. I struggle for minutes without end trying to position myself to see out but to keep the protective layer of warmth and fuzz between me and the light. I catch a glimpse of the time and covering most of my head in a blanket I reach over and grab my laptop. Setting it down on my bed while I crouch over a pillow waiting for a page to load up. Hoping to get a word out to the world to let them know that I will not come out until the dreaded light ceases trying to pierce into my brain. I will stay here under my blanket for the rest of the day and wait out the sun. I know it will tire of this game and slowly march across the sky into the west. I know if I can wait it out I will win and be able to continue on with my day. I know that if I stay under this blanket any longer I will fall back asleep.

The sun waits and keeps trying but it is too late. I have already fallen to the might of my blanket. First it is my protector now it is my captor.

Ok that is not 500 words but oh well.

Sunday, March 14, 2004

Seeking to write a story/script I took a few lines in a outline I had written a while ago. One of which I did this.

17. Hooking up with a old friend (Stan). Still selling big time drugs in this small town. Offers help and some weight to protect oneself. Lets it be known Dad was a loyal friend and a customer.

and filled it out to this. Still working on conversation. Somehow it does not feel right.

A white car pulls onto the road. Normally this road is completely empty and most people drive by it. Only the ones seeking something pull onto this road. The car pulls up closer and dims the lights as it stops in front of a house. For a small town this is about as bad as the neighborhood gets. This little cu de sac has three houses on it. The middle one in the best of shape and even then it is rundown. The front yard has a car parked on it. The windows are mostly boarded over except the large window in the front. It has glass but a heavy drape over it to block out all light. Perhaps it is there to keep in all light. The cars motor stops and the white door opens. Out comes Joel a cigarette hanging out of his mouth as he reached to close the door. Wearing a long and heavy coat he approaches the door. A swift knock on the heavy door and a drag on the cigarette. Blowing smoke into the peephole knowing someone was most likely watching his movements. A few clicks of locks and the door opens soft music from inside beckons. A man standing there in the way with short blonde hair that appears to be seeking every random direction. A glimmer of recognition and he steps out of the way.

“Joel how are you doing?” Stan asked while motioning over to a large chair in the room.

“Doing ok figured I would visit since I was around.” Joel responded and shook his head. He preferred to stand incase things went sour.

“I heard the news man I think it sucks what happened to your dad. Though he was a customer I considered him a friend. Why I remember the first day he brought you with him when he was picking up some stuff…”

“Some memories need to be forgotten Stan. I am here for information and find out who I can trust in this town.”

“You can trust me man but remember if you compromise my position I will no longer call you a friend.”

“Look I don’t care about your business. I just want answers. Who killed my dad? Do you know who he could have pissed off ?”

“I will look into it. Give me a few hours or so. In the mean time you care to share a smoke with me?”

“Na.. I don’t smoke that stuff man remember. Besides Scott has been harassing me and the last thing I want is for him to bust my ass because I know he would just love that.”

“Sure man sure. Tell you what while your in town I think I got something you can use.”

Stan went over to a small chest in the room. He pulled out a key and opened the lock on it. Reaching inside he pulled out a bundle of cloth. After closing the chest again and relocking it he wandered back over to Joel.

“Here man you may need this. Things have not changed much in this town since you left.” Stan handed over the cloth bundle to Joel’s outstretched hand. Joel carefully unwrapped the object and found a small gun inside. A press of a lever ejected the clip showing it full and ready to be used. Pushing the clip back inside and cocking it back he put the safety on. Carefully wrapping it back up in the cloth and putting it in a large coat pocket.

“It is nice to know some things never change. Of which how is the gang doing? If I need backup is there anyone I can call?”

“Na.. D is in the county and James is up at state. It is just me and you this time.”

“Look Stan you don’t have to do anything. I will understand. Cops are involved and I don’t wish anyone else to go down with me if things sour.”

“Don’t worry man. I will cover my own. Besides I always enjoy the chance to get back at some cops. Also if we can get one or two to sympathize for the cause means less I have to worry about busting my ass in the future.”

“Cool is there any cops that you know for information that I can call?”

“Na man. The one good cop I knew left town after the Green family incident a few years ago.”

“Green family? Isn’t that Derrick blood?”

“Yeah man. Dirty business too. His father was driving around stone on something and ran into someone porch. The cops approached the truck and demanded he come out. He had the windows rolled up and did not come out. So three of them opened fire. After emptying their guns into him they finally pulled him out and he was DOA by time ambulance arrived. The three of them got paid suspension while the Green family got half a mill and a ticket out of town.”

“Do you know who the cops were? That’s a messy situation there. I remember when Derricks dad used to take us fishing.”

“Don’t worry about them. They will get their own. I am personally looking into it. You worry about your problems for the moment.”

“Thanks man I should go. Give me a call on my cell when you get some info.”

“No worries man just remember this town has not changed since you left. People harbor old grudges and lots of them still own guns. Watch your toes otherwise they will have to dig a hole near your pop.”

“I understand. Laters.”
Joel turned around and headed towards the door. As it closed behind him the clicking of locks going into place signified that he was probably going to be alone this time. Holding the gun in his coat he walked over to the car and noticed a car across the street with someone sitting in it smoking a cigarette. Opening the car door and get inside he started the motor and drove off. In his rear view mirror the car sitting on the side of the road turned on its lights and started to slowly follow.

Friday, March 12, 2004

I have been trying to write better dialogue. It is a lot tougher than I thought it would be. Perhaps I just make it tougher than it should be. I do not know.

Headphones pulsing as the music hits my ears. It was going to be a dull day but things have started to pick up. So glad I picked up this mp3 player when I had the chance. Now standing here watching the world while everything is on mute so I can hear my own tune. The first line had already passed by. The theme song to my life while I stand here watching the world around me.

“Remember me when you're the one you always dreamed”

A moment later the chorus picks up a keyboard is heard in the background. I remember hearing this song a few hours ago. I heard it on the radio but only caught the remember me part and did a search online for it. Now I have heard it all the way through a few times I realize the impact it was making. I remembered her sitting there at her house all alone. I picked up my phone to give her a call. It has been 4 years would she even remember me like I remember her? Closure is what I want will this achieve it? Reaching over to my phone I picked it up and started dialing the number. The music playing in the background of my mind. The ringing of the phone on the other end built up the anticipation of it all.

“Hello?” She answered with her wonderful southern accent.
“Hi my name is Ed. I was thinking about you and wanted to call and talk.”
“Ed? I don’t know an Ed. Are you sure you have the right number?”
“Oh I also am known as Kasmiur. I went out and visited about 4 years ago.”
“Oh my. Kas I thought I would never hear from you again. How are you doing. I am sorry about that night.”
“No worries how are you doing of late?”
“I am doing ok just sitting here waiting for my ride to show up. My mom is going to take me out to dinner.”
“What happened to your car? Don’t you still have it?”
“Don’t you remember?”
“No I don’t sorry. There was actually a lot that I do not know because you never called.”
“I’m sorry I did not realize. Why did you leave that afternoon? I thought you were not to head back for a few more days.”
“Well that night after you did not return I heard nothing and your roommate did not know anything so she asked me to go. “
“What happened that night Tracy? I have pondered it for a few years and I am no longer angry but could you tell me why you did not return? Was it something I did wrong?”
“Um… It is rather hard to talk about. I would prefer to not discuss it.”

What she did not want to talk about it. I remember this really made me mad though I thought I was completely over it.

“Why can’t you tell me? I traveled 1900 miles to see you and then after a day and half you get the fuck up and leave in the middle of the night. You leave me there standing outside across the country in the night to visit your ex and you cannot give me a simple explanation. I want to know why I waited 10 hours wandering the streets for. I want to know why I had to ride back home in a bus and fight depression because of no word from you.”
“I went out to meet him to keep him from seeing you. I thought he would hurt you. When I got out there he hit me and knocked me out. I then woke up in the hospital a few days later. They found me on the side of a road with my cloths ripped off. You had left and my roommate said you were upset. I thought you were mad at me.”
“Sorry when your roommate said you had moved out I thought you had moved in with him. I’m sorry I did not look past my own insecurities.”
“It is ok. Perhaps you can visit again this time I wont run out on you. I can’t actually because I have been in a wheel chair for the past four years. “
“Oh I understand now about the ride thing. Sorry to hear about that. Also sorry for getting upset I really was hurt that night.”
“My ride is here call me again sometime.”

She hung up and was gone. I sat there holding my phone wondering what it felt like on her end lying there after being raped and beaten. Then partially ran over. Laying there that cold night while on the other end of town someone who cared for you wandered thinking he did something wrong. I pondered the years of regret she felt and how much pain she harbored towards me. I then realized all my fears and thoughts that night was nothing more than my own imagination.

“Remember me.. “

Such a sad song that I was listening to. It appeared to be the song for my life. Constantly remembering people who I have left or those who left me. Remembering the moments like a obscene dream as I try to grasp the enjoyable moments.

The track switched and another song came on. I grabbed my mp3 player to ponder this days events while wandering. Listening to the music I traveled a good distance and ended up inside a tall building. Taking steps up in tune with the beat I quickly arrive to the roof. Standing there with the world on mute as my song played. I know now I will never be happy as my fears will always win against my hopes. How many more loves or possible loves will I lose because of those fears? How much more pain will I take. I could just forget loving entirely. As soon as I start to care for someone the fears will start working against my heart and soon I will find myself in the same position.

Standing there on the roof listening to my music I take a step forward to changing my life. I take another step towards removing all my fears and doubts. The last step I take I feel the air rush through my hair as I sing along to the song. Eyes closed to not see the ground rushing up at me.

“Remember me when you're the one you always dreamed”

Wednesday, March 10, 2004

It is a proven fact that all things that have lived have also died. Life is a disease that continues to spread throughout the world. Soon if the government has it's way it will spread onto the moon and mars. Stop death by stopping life. :-)
The door was closed. The lights dimmed and some soft and sad music floating in the air. It was the moment he had been dreading. The moment he knew was coming. The longer he held out the worse it was each time. Looking back at the past month things have been quite good. Why did he always return to this point? The sitting in front of his computer. Headphones on to drown out any other noise. Not matter how happy he was this moment always came. It was almost like he had to pay his dues to afford the cheer. The CD changed tracks and one came up. He reached for the knife and rolled up his sleeve. A long and slow cut from shoulder to wrist. Closed eyes as the pain soaks into everything, think enough to smell and taste in the air. A short pull across the skin to leave create a cross in the line. Then another one at a different angle. The point of focus was made and he spent a minute crossing over it with the knife. Caught in the moment he never noticed that he had a audience.

She had entered the apartment using the spare key he had given. She had knocked hoping to catch him before he went to bed. Figuring he was in the shower she entered quietly. As she entered she realized he was not in the shower. She walked to his room seeing a small glow from the computer monitor. He was sitting in his chair and it looked like surfing the web. As she got closer she watch him drag a knife against his arm. She held her breath pondering what she could have done to cause him that. She watched for a moment as he attacked himself and then during a lull she walked closer. She watched him go again as more lines of black appearing on his skin. Waiting for the next lull she walked up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. To let him know she was there. He set the knife down and pulled off the headphones. Turning around he motioned to the bed where they could sit comfortably.

An hour passes by as he tries to help her understand his need. The feeling that he achieved in his acts. The repeated telling her that it was not because of her. Trying to reassure her and make sure she understood this was a part of his personality that has been there for a long time. Comprehension came slowly but she did achieve understanding. In the end she only asked to watch hoping that an audience will keep him from committing the deed. She was almost correct. It hindered the first but after the pain obscured things he forgot she was there. Then when he was finally finished he wrapped his arm up and came back to her. Looking refreshed and calm he held her while she cried. He held her while holding onto the hope that she would understand it and still care for him. It was his secret shame and now she has seen it. Will things ever be the same again?
Living makes me sick.

Cold and clammy hands repeatedly wiping themselves on already soiled pants. Standing there in the heat watching her hair as it gently waves in the wind. Waiting for her to turn back around. This was going to be the moment he waited for. The first kiss. The last few days have been a dream that bordered exquisite pleasure. The conversations and the banter. The constant feeling of being forced to dig further and further into his memories to conjure up something just as intelligent as what she set forth. The joy in winning an argument and the moment of pleasure when a point she was trying to convey finally materialized. The feeling of having found a equal in the world but also the missing piece. The moment of staring at her hair and pondering the many years that could lay ahead. The possibilities that would spring forth from the simple response of yes. Clammy hands wiped themselves again on his pants.

She turned around and looked straight into his eyes. Depth and understanding as no words passed but she knew what was coming. Fright filled her mind and shook her soul. The thought that this could be a dream scared her but the thought of losing control and falling completely for him made her tremble.

Both of their words hung in the air. They quickly spoke them and both said the same thing. Different words but the same meaning behind them. One person’s dream crushed. Another’s dream held back in fear. Hands no longer clammy yet reaching. He pulled her close for a kiss and wrapped his arms around her. Taking a chance that she would understand that holding back because of fear would only hurt more in the long run.

Friday, March 05, 2004

So the other day I wore some aquasocks to a friends house. I bought them because they looked comfy and easy to slip on. Also they were cheap. Everything I wanted out of it I have gotten a tenthfold. While we were there chatting someone mentioned they would write a novel and a character would wear aquasocks. I was pleasantly pleased. These things have truly been somewhat fun to wear. It is like wearing slippers but a bit more support on the bottom. That person wrote in thier blog a short story about a superhero who had a pair. As I read it at work I thought to myself.... I could do better. I did not mean it in the way that I could write better but I thought I could write a better story that would include Aquasocks. So I did. Is it better? I don't know. I do know it is a lot shorter. So here it is. Enjoy my story that includes aquasocks. Also I just like saying aquasocks.

And the door closed shut. Another chapter and moment in life gone forever. As he had turned his back I should have said something. Looking at the back of his coat I wanted to say something. Seeing him lift his duffel bag over his shoulder and then turning the door knob I knew my moment to say something was there. It was then but I kept silent. I did not want him to go. He kept talking about duty and to fight for freedom. What about his duty to me? What about the needs I had? Yet he still left. I should have said something to him. Staring at the door I hear the truck start up. The loud bellows of exhaust that spurts out with rolling of thunder. I hear the engine rev up a little then it fading into the distance. How will I tell myself that your gone. My gaze drifts down from the door and onto the floor nearby. I see his bright blue aqua socks. I remember when he first wore them, “A man has to have a comfy pair to wear around the house.” I used to make fun of his glorified slippers. The early mornings where he would slip those on to run outside in the cold to start up his truck. Then he would run back inside to get dressed quickly. That day when I was really sick and he ran to McDonalds to get me some fries. Wearing nothing but those and a pair of shorts. Now by some chance he had forgotten them. Perhaps I shall leave them there so when he comes back he will see all that waited for his return. Instead I get up and go grab them. Holding them close knowing there is a chance that he will not come back. All I will have left to remember him by are the aqua socks.

Thursday, March 04, 2004

“Damn mutt. Why can’t you make up your mind?”
I got up out of the chair. Walked over to the door and opened it. A blast of cold air hits my face. A small furry blur runs between my legs and out into the darkness. I close the door and wander back to my chair. Plop down and lean back to watch a show on the TV. A few moments later the familiar scratching at the door. Ugh the though that runs through my mind. So I get up again and open the door. Again the blast of cold air chills me to the bone while the little furry blur darts between my legs again.
“Now you better be staying in.”
I sit back in my chair it is a commercial break. I close my eyes pondering sleep and remember the summer. Only a few more months till it arrives then I can go back to enjoying nature. Memories of playing catch with Shadow out in the fields. As if the dog could sense my thoughts it had gotten up again and wanted out.
“If I let you out then you’re staying out. I am in no mood to play revolving door tonight.”
Still the scratching at the door. So I get up and open the door again. Knowing it was coming did not lessen the blast of cold that caught me while I waited for him to run outside again. Closing the door and sensing it was late I head off to bed. While I lay there waiting for sleep I hear the scratching at the door again. He wanted back in. Well I think I will let him stay out for a bit longer. Perhaps he will learn to make up his mind. I close my eyes and hear a howl.
“He can wait a few minutes while I rest. No point in getting up to let him in to let him out again in a few minutes.” The thought came to me and I turn on my little radio.

Blissful sleep arrives too quickly. I slept the sleep of the dead. I struggle to awaken in the morning and get up to start the morning ritual. After I get out of the shower I stand there pondering if I had forgotten something. I look around wondering if I left something in the dryer. I search the house and still do not find what I am missing. I get dressed for work and grab my car keys. I open the front door and see what I forgotten. There on the porch lay my dog. A small pool of blood as it had tried clawing at the metal door hoping to get inside. Then he had went to sleep curled up on the porch as if waiting for his master to let him back in. I remember the cold blasts of air when I opened the door. Then I remember the howl in the middle of the night as it cried for me. I reach down to touch him. My poor boy. I should have known better. The ice-cold fur and the lack of movement is not something I will forget. The poor guy never understood why I did not come to him. I can just picture the world from his view. He wanted to get inside so badly he would claw until he bled. He only howled once and then kept silent. Suffering and hoping that I would return.

That day I buried my friend out in a field of snow. I dug a whole in the ground a good depth and set him in it. In that hole I buried much more than my friend. Still in those cold winter nights when the wind is blowing I hear him howl. I often go to the door and stare out looking, watching, and hoping he will return to me. These times though I stand at the door holding it open letting the cold bite feeling as if I deserve this somehow. Though I know I deserve much more.

Wednesday, March 03, 2004

The rain pounded the roof desperately. Trying to get inside the house. The little drops hitting against the tiles at times the sound like a little boy pounding away quickly with his new set of drums. The sound of a few drops hitting a puddle near the door gives more depth for the music of nature. It had started raining a few minutes ago. A crack of thunder brought some lightning and inside this room you see a boy standing there. Holding a gun in one hand. In the other hand he is steadying his arm. On the floor you see a body. Face down face in a puddle of blood. Surprise on both faces. The boy reaches back and pulls the gun and aims it just like he has seen in the movies. Thunder breaks the clouds again. This time the gunshot is louder though. Memories fill the boys head while he is standing there emptying what ammunition he had left. Memories of when he got the gun.

“Heavy is good. Heavy is solid. You want to stand there with the weight in the gun to avoid some of the kick. You want heavy. Also when you run out of bullets you can use it to hit with.”

“I don’t know that seems quite heavy. My arm gets tired holding for a few seconds now. What will it be like if I use it? How will I aim correctly?”

“You pull it and aim then fire. After your done put it away. Make sure you flip the safety so you don’t shoot yourself in the foot though. Your not going to be holding it for a long time. If your holding the gun for a few minutes before you fire then perhaps you should not get this. Only buy a gun if your going to use it. If you want to threaten people then you should stick with a knife or bat.”

“Alright I understand. How much for the piece and a full clip?”

“You know what I ask for the gun. The bullets I will throw in. When you’re a man come back to me and I will put you to work.”

The boy picked up the gun and the ammo. Stuffing it inside his backpack he quickly headed off. School was starting here soon and he wanted to drop this off somewhere safe. No need in going to school to get caught when he went through so much to even get it. Soon he will be free. Soon he will be a man. Then he will go work for Big D and he could afford his own place.

The moment sunk in. The deed that was completed is comprehended. Guilt sinks in and suddenly terror of getting caught. He quickly grabbed the wallet out of the man and left the house through the backdoor. The rain beating down on him as if punishing him for his sins. He quickly ran to the fence and tried to climb it. Some mud on the ground causes him to slip and he hit’s the fence with his jaw. Blood starts dripping out as he focuses and starts climbing up. A few minutes later and he is a block away waiting for his ride to pick him up. Up a head he catches a car pulling towards him. It is easy to notice the lights on the van. He walks out to meet up with it. As it gets closer he can almost see D in the driver seat. It stopped right in front of him. He wanders over to the passenger side. The door slides open and a barrel sticks out. Loud shot and he watches the ground rush up at him. The last words he hears, ‘There is a sucker born every minute.’

Darkness closes in as the rain lessens. Cold rain that drips down onto his face. Breathing gets shallow and soon the wasted youth is dead. Two murders in one night. One destiny that was tied to several people.

Tuesday, March 02, 2004

How far does fiction vary from the truth? How much of my life is in the tale and how much is fake? Often it scares me how little of it is fake. How much of this sad tale is truly mine. How much of the tale is truly anyones? For the emotions and feelings I imagine are echo'ed through the world and time.

Standing there the cold winter morning. Clouds overhead hanging low looking like they want to swallow up the world. A few shivering bodies stand near the hole. A old man who should have died years ago mumbling some words as the box lowers. A quick glance and I see none of my brothers. Just my mom, Grandma, and the kids. Kenny should have at least came to be there for his kids. Chris should have came because it was his father also that was being lowered into the cold ground. A few of his friends and people who I know as human waste. Those people did not help things at all. I remember one of them used to be the dealer for some of my friends. Another was one that would always try to sell these car stereo’s that he “acquired” from his friends. The other one the one that would always drive a different van every month. Once in a while in the paper the van was then found abandoned somewhere with remains of a meth lab inside of them. What proud people we have standing here. I watch it lower a bit further and I remember the few moments I had with him.

I remember I was 5 or so. Possibly 6. My mom had left to the store earlier with my brothers and I was there with my dad and a few of his friends. They were sitting around watching TV and smoking something. It was a commercial break as I sat on the floor playing with some toys. We all heard a knock at the door. One of my dad’s friends had glanced through the window and uttered a single word, ‘Sheriff’ My dad picked me up and put me in the room. I asked him why because I wanted to play with my toys. “The police are here, be quiet and stay here.” He said something along those lines. I do not remember. I only remember the feeling of police and stay put. So I played in my room. Then I hear another knock and the door open. Loud words and a crash. Then silence. Perhaps they came to take my toys away was my thought. I quickly hide the toys under the bed and then sit and wait. I keep waiting. That is one of my earliest memories. Waiting for my father to open up the door and tell me everything is ok. It wasn’t though. They had took him away for a warrant. I believe this time was because he was a convicted felon and he was found with a gun in his truck one night. I am not exact. He never came back that day. It was several years before he did come back.

I wonder as I stand there if any of those people standing were his friend back then. I know one of them was one of his friends recently. I was storing one of my cars at his farm so my dad could work on it in his free time and possibly get it up and running for my little brother. My dad had lots of projects that he worked on. Lots more that he did with his friends. As we head off I shake Dave’s hand. I have no words for this man. I remember the first time I met him.

I was 10 or so and the previous day had broke my bike. I was riding it and the brakes were not responding so I tried to slow down and ended up falling off of it. The bike ran into a tree and bent the front wheel. I remember dragging it home and my dad saying that Saturday he would fix it. “Just retighten the spokes and perhaps hammer it into a decent shape. Once the spokes are tightened correctly should straighten it back out.” I eagerly went to bed that night knowing the next day I would be able to watch my dad fix my bike. I wake up the next morning and head out to find him. After searching the house it appears he was not there. I ask mom and she mentions he was went to a friends to get a tool. So I watch some cartoons and play with some toys. Afternoon arrives quickly and still no dad. It gets into late afternoon and still nothing. I decide to wander to the store to get a soda. I get some money from mom and get my little brother. We wander down the street and come across a messy yard that has a car on it. The engine was pulled out and on the porch sitting in chairs is my dad and some of his friends. They are sitting around drinking something and smoking something. I now know that smell. It is hard to forget. Chris and I walk up and say hello. We are quickly introduced as His boys. I ask him what about my bike. Apparently when he came over to get a tool his friend Dave asked him to help fix something. They started on it but stopped a bit ago to drink and relax. He would come home soon and get it fixed. We head off to the store and get some soda. We walk back and they are still sitting there. After we get home supper is ready and we eat then settle down for some TV. Wanting to stay up to catch Dad when he came home I fight sleep. Around 3am still no dad. I fall asleep and wake up at noon on Sunday. Needless to say still no dad and still my bike was broken. The next weekend I ended up finding a new wheel at a yard sale for cheap. A quick please to my mom and I get it. I never ask my dad to fix my bike again.

“Your dad loved you boys very much.” The words leave Dave’s mouth as if they were squeezed out. They sounded so fake. My dad did not love us. If he did he would have been at home when we needed him. If he did then he would have came back to the room and got me instead of disappearing for 3 years when the police came. If he loved us he would have not put my mom through the hell she went through. Yeah perhaps tough love. Not wanting to say anything mean this day I quickly turn my back and start walking to my car. I remember my first car that I had bought. I was 18 and I was making payments on it. I had agreed to pay 1500 for this car. After 4 months with this car I had already broke it. The dang thing leaked oil. I was completely new to car maintenance. My dad loved cars and always would work on them. Usually though the working on the cars was at a friends house. They would sit, drink, and smoke while they pondered what to do next to the fabled El’ Camino my dad kept saying he would get running soon.

“So if I buy a motor for this car can you help me put it in?” Those words I will later learn to regret. My car has been sitting in the driveway for 3 months. I know my income tax return is coming up soon and I want to get my car running again. I know the auto shop has a motor that I could buy but I could not afford the labor they would charge to put it in. “Sure I can help you with that. Tell you what I think I can actually find a motor for it at the junkyard. Would be a lot cheaper for you and that way leave some money to fix anything else you may have broke.” I remember working a couple of weeks at 50-60hr’s a week to acquire the money I needed. I remember waking up at 3:30am and working until 9:30pm some nights and coming home exhausted. The parts of my hands were the chemicals I used to wash dishes were starting to cause a rash. All of it would be worth it though. I only need my car running then I will have freedom again. I will be able to drive where I needed to go. I could also visit my friend in Ogallala and perhaps steer him away from the drugs he has been using. “Ok I will give you the money for the junkyard but you have to help me put it in please..” I hand over the wad of bills. More money than I have ever held before this day. Two paychecks worth. I remember the begging and making a deal with my mom so she would not charge me rent this month and that I would slowly pay her back. She just wanted the car off of her driveway so she could park there instead. The next weekend he came back with a motor. We take it inside and start to clean it and strip it down to check for broken parts. He commented on how one of the other motors out there were crap and this was a good one. After that night it would be two more weeks away before he would do anything further. I would continue to work and dream of things I would do when I got the car back up and running. One night we get the motor prepped and plan on the next day to drop it in. it was not a heavy motor. Both of us were able to lift it and move it. That night we pull the motor out of the car and set it aside. The next day I wake up and apparently he had left in the middle of the night to go meet with friends. I catch him a few days later. Another week passes and we finally drop the motor into the car. We add all the parts back and try to start up the car. It struggles and struggles putting out lots of smoke. We pull the motor out and look it over. Water in the oil is the culprit. Then two more weeks pass by with the motor sitting on a table. I ask him what we could do to find out why water was appearing in the oil. He says we could try a compression test. Still more time passes by and nothing. One night while looking over the motor and comparing it to the old motor I see the water pump is shorter on the new motor. We compare and look deeper. The motor he bought from the junkyard must have been in a crash. The water pump was pressed into the engine and had a small crack that lead into the block. I ask him about returning the engine so we can try another. Apparently the junkyard had a policy about returns. You had a limited amount of time to return the item to get a refund or exchange. We had long passed that time. I remember taking a long walk that night. Early morning came and the sun rose to me sitting in my car. I was saying goodbye because I now knew we would never get it working. I also could not afford now professional mechanic to fix it.

“Perhaps we should have dug a bigger hole and buried some of his stuff with him.” My mom still in shock that he was dead. She kept taking him back over the years so much that it was a pattern us kids saw. He would screw up and she would kick him out. He would return one night to get some of his stuff and she would take him back. She would always bug him about the shit he kept there. She would always threaten to throw all of it out. Sometimes she would throw away a box and he would dig it out of the trash and store it somewhere else. Often he would take the stuff to a friends house and store it there or he would stick it in one of his many cars and lock the car. Now that he was gone I know she wont be throwing anything away. With all of his faults she still loved him like the first day she met him. I drive her back to her house. Hands gripping the steering wheel. One of the traits I got from him. He would always grip with one hand tightly and the other loosely.

“Dad you got to watch the road otherwise you may miss the turn for Uncle Jacks.” Sitting there in the seat of the El’ Camino as he cruised down the highway. I have no clue how fast he is going but I know he is going fast. He lifts a can up to his mouth and carefully balances the can on his arm and uses the other hand to light it with a lighter. A deep inhale that rivals the sucking of a vacuum then a small snort. Moments later he exhales and a cloud of noxious smoke fills the car. I am not tall enough to look completely out of the window. The deep seats and my slouched posture keep me from seeing the weaving white lines. I cough and he quickly rolls down a window. Soon after he is down with the can I watch him toss it out the window and we eventually arrive at our destination.

“Junior slow down the speed limit here is 30!” My mom always is fearful because I apparently drive too fast. I glance down at the speedometer. I am doing 34. As if my mom summoned them on the spot I see some flashing lights behind me. I pull over and await the police officer shakedown. An old man approaches the car. I look like a gangster. Sitting there real low in my firebird. The seat was broken so unless I hunched over all the time I would scoot the seat up and lean back. I know this officer. I have ran into him quite a few times in my youth. He peers through the window. “Do you know why I pulled you over?” “No officer.” My automated response to just about everything he can ask me. “Do you know how fast you were going back there?” “Yes officer I know how fast I was going.” “Do you know the speed limit here is 30 mph?” “Actually officer no it is not. The sign back there stated it was 35mph and I imagine you just missed it.” I have never been one for hiding around the bush with these cops. If they are going to pull me over for a obvious fake reason then I will be more than happy to point out their lies. “License and registration son.” I hand over the information and then sit there waiting. My mom telling me I should treat these people respect. I tell her I do not believe in charity and watch in my mirror. I see another cop pull up behind the other one. I wonder if this will end up like some of my other encountered with the local police.

“Excuse me there son can you tell me which way your going?” Silly officer stupid questions are for kids. “I am going that way.” I point off to the west. “No I want to know where you are heading and where you are coming from there son.” “I came from that direction and will be heading in that direction. “ The police car stops and he gets out. I stand there waiting and ponder if I will be able to make more fun of this idiot. Some of my friends standing behind me. They are glad I took the attention off of themselves. I am glad they did not decide to light up otherwise they would have been busted. “Son I asked you a question and I expect a valid answer. Now tell me where are you heading and where did you come from.” Seeking to move along I decide games will not be worth it today. “I am heading to Wal-mart to buy some soda for my friends and we are coming from Campbell’s School after playing some basketball.” “Then where is the ball?” “The kids with the ball lost so went home. We decided we would get some soda as a victory prize.” “Are you carrying any drugs on you? If you tell me now when we lock you up like your dad perhaps they will put you two in the same cell.” “I have no drugs officer. Wait correction. I have some Caffeine pills. Would you like to check them?” A tense moment and then the cop pats me down and searches my coat. I used to always carry a huge amount of items in my coat. Finding no drugs or illegal substances he seems almost disappointed. Handing me back my package of pills he gets into his car. He flips a U-turn and is gone from our sight. “Dude your dad is in jail. What did he do this time?” “Probably farted in the wrong direction and that guy did not like it. I don’t know he is there all the time it seems. Now lets go to the store I need something to drink.” After a friend makes sure no cop is in sight they light up their joint as we continue our way.

The cop walks back to the car. He gives me a warning for doing 42 in a 35. I tell him I will not accept this warning because I was obviously not speeding. He gives me a evil look and tells me I am luck that he is such a nice guy. He drops the warning off into my car and walks back. I start up my car and slowly start heading back home. When we get there I find out the reason Kenny had not went to the funeral is he is again in jail. Chris has got out a week ago and must be hanging with his friends. Sometimes I wonder if the cops keep stopping me because they cannot believe one of my dad’s kids kept clean. Perhaps they hope that they will catch me on something. Perhaps they cannot understand that the whole bunch was not bad. That night I leave the town. I watch the lights fade into a soft glow in the distance. After a bit more time even the glow disappears. The best part about coming home is leaving it. I often wish I could leave it for good. I know deep down though that I will die there and never leave it again.

Monday, March 01, 2004

cold wind was blowing through my coat. I did not zip it up because I figured I would be back in my car in a few seconds. Instead I was standing there listening to a friend. I could hear her words and I knew what she was saying. She was saying the things that I felt. The things that I pushed back deep inside. She was awakening the feelings I did not want back. I knew the moment when she asked for a moment of my time in private what the talk was coming. As she said each word it seemed as if time has slowed down so this would take longer than it needed. It had a surreal flavor to it. I know why it did too. I had dreamed of this moment in the past. This was what I had wanted. The next step to our friendship. This was the moment I also have feared. Her words flowing out frozen by the wind so they hung there for a moment before disappearing. As cold as it was I did not need to zip up my coat because the warmth that was spreading inside filled me.

“I do not understand how you could have missed the hints I have dropped and I have wondered if you were daft.”

“No I caught a lot but I have chosen to not do anything regarding those.”

“Why would you ignore this then? Is this not what you also want? I know we can be happy together.”

“I do not doubt the moments that would be enjoyable. I wish I could do nothing but spend the rest of my life with you. “

“Then what is stopping you? Why the restraint on your heart?”

“My friend cares for you. I understand his position. I know how much he cares. I could not hurt him for our joy. I will not cause him the pain I have suffered in the past because I wish to be happy.”

“So your going to suffer for your friend? You self-righteous bastard! Your friend was turned down and he refuses to understand. So your going to deny what you feel because your afraid to hurt him? Pain is a part of life your friend should be happy that you choose the path of joy.”

“Perhaps he should but it is my decision to make. In time I will reconsider my position on this. I cannot ask you to wait. I will not ask anything of you except to be a friend. I want you to understand that I also do not wish him to ever know of my decision.”

“What if I tell him and then we both speak to you? Would you then reconsider your position?”

“If you tell him then I will never let go the restraint on my heart. I want you to understand I have suffered the pain I am sparing him. I was almost not strong enough to survive it. I doubt he is yet strong enough.”

“Your calling your friend weak then and your protecting him. Have you asked him if he wanted to be protected?”

“No I do not discuss such things with him. Nor shall I. I want you to understand but I guess that will not happen. I wish you a good night.”

“Don’t leave me. Stay here at least for a few more hours. We can sit and talk as a friend.”

“No I must go.”

I turned and started to walk away. I could hear muffled sounds of agony from behind me. I knew her tears were freezing on her face. I knew deep inside her heart was getting a bit colder. I knew the future could have been wonderful. I also knew that I would have torn myself up inside for hurting my friend. I never wished to be in this position. I never wanted to make a choice. I doubt she will understand in the near future. Perhaps in a few years we will both grow a little more and be better friends.

The cold wind blowing through my coat. Finding a way into my heart. I used to wish I would never feel again. The thought of being emotionless was a better life than the constant torment and pain. Now I wish I could feel some pain over this. I wish I could feel some regret. I know my friend will never know about my choice. My heart will keep reminding me of the decision though. There is no wind cold enough to numb that feeling.