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Saturday, May 29, 2010


The morning light means it’s time to sleep.

The empty bottles and the empty pack of smokes
means the writing is done for the night

The eviction notice means it’s back to the streets

The pink slip means it’s time to skate

The “let’s talk” means the end of sex

how else can ends be marked?

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Keep it that way

There was a petite red head at one of my favorite hangouts back east that I always had my eye on. Many other guys also keep a famished eye on her as well, and we often compared notes. Men considered her too hot, and thus too in demand for any of us to have a chance. Yet she was there every other Saturday, showing off that amazing body, and never seemed to have a man with her.
Her long red hair flowed so beautifully to the gothic music, her tight body moved in all the right ways, and she had the look of sensuality that would make anyone cum in a mere minute. Other women seemed to dislike her. Men would drop anything to have just a peek. She oozed sex, screamed it in beautifully silent screams. Most of us forgot our own names when she danced.
I usually stayed close to the bar, but made the rounds and checked out the dance floor all too often. It was always important to be seen talking with many people, even as there was little to talk about. The place was always full and lively. There were attractive women, their male friends, and intimidated males who drank away their sorrows of not being able to get the attractive women. I was different in that I didn’t care about status or being able to get whoever. I just wanted to drink and enjoy, so I talked with everyone.
The night that changed things and elevated my status came the when i was determined to not go out for financial reasons. I was having troubles, and decided to save money. However, there was a party at work for the customers. The owners of the small printing company had made the mistake of having an open bar and inviting employees. We drank them dry, and stayed long after the customers left. Free drinks? Are you kidding me?
After the owners threw us out, my boss, an Irishman name Bob, dropped me off three blocks from my apartment. It was also four blocks from my fave club, and I was drunk and fired up. There was no way I was heading home.
I walked in, went to the bar, and bought a rum and coke. The place was packed as usual, but I was more fired up than usual. I went to the dance floor. There she was again, like a vision, oozing sexuality, dancing alone. I sipped heavily, then took the plunge.
I danced right over to her. She looked at me, then danced away. I kept on dancing, slowly inching closer. She looked at me and danced away, but turned her head and gave me a look that seemed to ask “Do you dare?” I dared, and danced to her again. Her expression was if to ask “Who is this guy?!” She danced facing my direction. Her facial expression showed interest.
It was as if the whole place was watching. Many were. None I had known of had gotten to this level with her. We danced closer. The music seemed to elevate in energy. We danced even closer. Then closer again. Her expression lightened from standoffish to surrender. My cock was rock hard, and my heart pumped violently.
Then it happened. We danced too close, and gravity of passion gripped us hard. Within seconds, we were dancing with no space between us. She rubbed her sensitive parts against me everywhere. We kissed, then took turns kissing each others’ necks. I caressed her curves with my hands. She raised her arms as to invite me to caress even more of her. As the d.j. announced a break, we kissed with full tongue action. All eyes were on us.
We went to the bar to get drinks. I readied to pay. She smacked my hands down, and pulled out her debit card. She bought the drinks, then pulled me off to a quieter area. We sat down close together and set our drinks down. She gave the look, that of having been turned on and needing more. No words were exchanged. We kissed and made out for a solid half hour.
She paused from the kissing first. After a moment, she got up, grabbed my hand, and led me out of the bar. When we got outside, she waved a cab. It pulled over, she pulled me to it.
“Where to?”
“1623 Broad.”
Her voice was heavenly, but I had no time to evaluate. We were going at it hot and heavy in the cab. She panted and kissed as I kissed and fondled. She guided my hand down her pants, and let out sounds that echoed pleasure. The cabbie repeatedly glanced in the rearview, and almost drove off the road several times.
We finally arrived at her place. She paid. We went in. It was a nice older home in a decent neighborhood. She led me upstairs and into a bedroom. She locked the door behind us, then began peeling the leather clothing from her sweaty, hot body. I took my clothes off too, watching her the whole time.
Her body was way more amazing than I thought it would be. Her curves were perfect, as were her hips. Her legs were maddeningly hot. We kissed while we stood naked, but gradually made our way to the bed. The foreplay was amazing, but the sex was brain melting, round after round. Hours rolled by like minutes. Orgasms broke the otherwise dead night. She was far better than I thought possible. After long sessions, she passed out. Shortly thereafter, I passed out too.
The next thing I remember was that of a baby crying. I thought I was dreaming. Then there were sounds of young children playing, crying, and yelling. A middle aged woman could then be heard bitching in a foreign language. Pots and pans clanged. I was waking up alone in bed, but where was I?
I waited and pretended to still be sleeping. Surely the red head would be back. No one would leave me like this. I felt like death. Minutes rolled on, then an hour rolled on. Ninety minutes followed quickly. I had to piss and have water. I slowly and quietly got up. I slowly dressed, then slowly opened the bedroom door. It was clear. I snuck out and looked for a bathroom.
Three doors down I found one. I was grateful to lock the door behind me, and take care of business. As I washed my face with cold water, I tried to remember the paths to escape through the front door. Suddenly there was a knock at the door.
A childs’ voice was heard; “Come on! I have to go!”
What else could I do but walk out acting as if was supposed to be there? So that’s what I did. I walked out, and the kid rushed in. He looked at me funny, but had to piss too bad to raise hell. I made best use of my time, and snuck down the stairs. Finally, I was within short running distance of the front door and thus freedom. I was seconds away.
A rasy woman’s voice called out, “Hey sexy! You’re alive!”
It was the red head. She saw my legs coming down the stairs. The middle aged woman said something that sounded mean. The red head told her to shut up.
“Want some coffee, baby?”
Her eyes smiled. She looked great. I wondered about getting her back in bed.
“I’d love some.”
A cup was in my hands in ten seconds. It was awful.
“Come on. I’ll drive you home.”
The older lady cursed. We left. I took the coffee cup.
We got in the car, an old Buick. She drove a block away. She put the car in park.
“We passed out before it got good.”
Suddenly we were kissing and making out. She guided my left hand to her boobs, and my right up her skirt. I slid my finger inside her. She let out a moan.
“That’s it, we are going to your place.”
I lived ten blocks away. We were there in minutes, then went inside. She pulled out a pipe and took a hit. Then she stripped down. I did too.
We went at it intensely. My hangover didn’t matter so much. Round after round, we went at it. We broke for her to smoke up and for me to have a quick drink. The Sunday afternoon went quick. I wanted yet another round, but she stopped me. We lay beside each other, catching our breath.
“If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you.”
“Tell anyone what?”
“Better keep it that way.”
She got dressed and left, saying nothing. I raided my fridge, ate well, and took a twelve hour nap. When I woke, I smiled about the weekend. I was exhausted.
No one I knew believed me. Even those that saw us leave together.
They responded, “No one gets her.”
“Well, someone does.”
“Not you.”
Two weeks later, I saw her at the same club. Our eyes met. She looked away, then turned her back to me. Guys sneered. I drank more, and ended up going home alone.
It was another month before she came over for more sex.
“Sorry about that. I don’t want just any guy thinking he can get me.”
Great. That’s exactly what it would have said.
Well, at least I got mine.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010


I met each of them at a place called Uncle Jimmy’s, one of my favorite hangouts. I was a regular at the time, as it was the warm up bar, where I went for cheap drinks before heading off to a club. It was cheaper that way. While there, I made the rounds. I knew everyone and they knew me. I played pool, drank rum and coke, and smoked cigarettes. I was given great treatment, and treated everyone well.
First I met Rodney. He just wandered in one evening, not being a regular. I, of course, was one of those to be a welcome wagon of sorts, struck up a conversation with him quickly. We talked a while before I floated off to make my rounds. On that night, I ended up skipping more expensive clubs and staying at Uncle Jimmy’s until late.
The place gradually deadened as people left for parties and clubs, until a second wave of those who had gone to clubs, only to either disappointed or not in the mood, returned to the neighborhood bar. Rodney and I had talked for hours, and seemed to be similar in many ways. Around one a.m. a woman came in alone and ordered a drink very close to me. As per “man code,” Rodney shut down and turned his attention elsewhere.
I checked her out. She was not a gorgeous woman. I mean, she did not go as far as many or most in making herself look hot. She seemed more of the natural variety. There was no makeup, she wore jeans and t-shirt, and her hair was undone. Her eyes showed a certain craziness, but didn’t reveal insanity. She was thin with nice curves. I was attracted.
The woman got her drink and stayed beside me. She did not sit down, and didn’t even glance away. We simply noticed each other and seemed to have a connection. Her name was Jenny. She was stone cold sober, but nervous. She had been shutting herself off from life, she said, so she could have career and money, but had grown tired of being alone, so she came to the bar.
Murphy, the bouncer, gave me a look, expressing his hope that I knew what I was getting into. It had been many months since I had been with a woman, so there was no way I’d be able to pass. Jenny and I spoke for maybe ten minutes when she hinted at wanting to go back to my place. I was eager, and did, in fact, have beer in the fridge. We left before even finishing our drinks.
We drank beer back at my place, while sitting on my couch. Jenny got into her philosophies and she nervously drank. I listened and engaged her point by point, all the while I scoped out her body and imagined great sex. Hours rolled on as empty beer cans collected. I kept looking for ways to interject romance or sexy conversation. I kept giving physical signs of being interested, and tried to make moves. None seemed to work.
Finally, I decided to just ask. I can’t remember the exact wordage. Jenny sat silent for a few seconds before a smile broke through.
“Ok. You have to be gentle though. It’s been four years, and I’m probably really tight.”
She wasn’t kidding. It was the tightest I had known. She was loud too, and I know she woke the neighbors. Long story short, Jenny was an amazing lay. Too good, in fact. Within one minute of completing inside her, I was fucking her again. After more than a few rounds, Jenny ubruptly got up, went into my bathroom, and took a shower. By then, it was close to six in the morning. When Jenny came out, she announced that she had to go in order to catch her bus. She did not kiss me goodbye, but thanked me for the beer and the fucks, then left. I crawled into bed and went to sleep. I had to get up for work in four hours. Thankfully, I was no longer drunk.
The next night at Uncle Jimmy’s was a bit unusual. Murphy the bartender looked at me differently, as if to be shocked at my behavior. He didn’t speak to me much. When Rodney came in, he came right up to me.
“Yeah, freak sex is hot. Wish she had sat next to me. I’d have fucked her too.”
“She was good, actually. Made my night. Still took a while to get her in bed though.”
He chuckled. “Crazy Bitches are always good!”
I started to suspect he thought she was crazy to have gone for me over him.
We left the bar shortly after. It was my idea to try to find a more happening place. We walked down the street toward a night club where I was sure I’d get a number or two. Rodney spoke only of his ex girlfriend, which bored me terribly. I took to eying all the hot chicks walking the summer streets, heading for parties or clubs. I wondered which I could possibly get.
As we got closer to the main drag, Rodney stopped suddenly. He stared ahead, tense. We had stopped in the shadows. Ahead were a few women chatting in front of an apartment building. They couldn’t see us. I could barely see them.
“There she is. There’s my ex.”
“Ok. I’m sure she’s very nice.”
“Come on.”
Rodney went into the bushes. I followed for some reason. We stood there. Rodney stared intensely and listened. I stood a few feet away and didn’t. it didn’t seem right to me. Now I was afraid of Rodney. He was a freak. I went over and told him that I didn’t like spying, and that I was leaving. He ignored me and walked up to his ex. I went the other way, back to Uncle Jimmy’s.
Twenty minutes later, Rodney came in. he didn’t get a drink, rather, he wanted to tell me that he went back to his ex. I didn’t believe him. His ex came in to bring him out. Ok, he was right, but I still dislike his spying. To me, it was stalking, and thus wrong.
A half hour later, Jenny came in. She sat down beside me and asked if she could stay the night. I readily agreed, of course, and we left. It was a replay of the night before, except it didn’t take as long to get her in bed. We alternated between drinking and fucking for hours.
Again, around five thirty she showered. Afterward she readied to leave. She didn’t kiss me or give a hug. She stood there, ready to go, but needing to say something. I was tired and wanted her to either go or stay and sleep.
“You probably already know I am married, so I don’t need to tell you.”
I was suddenly awake.
“Married?! Umm..”
“Yes. Married, suburban life, regular job, day care, dull, boring, walking dead.”
“Umm.. Ok. And your husband is ok with..”
She laughed.
“Of course not, stupid! If he knew, he’d kill us both.”
“Won’t he find out? You’re going home at six a.m.”
“He works nights. It’s ok.”
Jenny walked out. I went to bed, suddenly uncomfortable with freak sex. The next time I saw Jenny, I broke off the affair. I was such a fool back then.

two texans

I had been in the city for just a few months, but had already discovered many great hangouts. It was the first time I had lived in a city, or had even visited one for that matter, so every day was thrilling to me. I had never seen such a culture of abundance and abandon. Incredibly attractive women were everywhere, and easy to approach. Beer and liquor were the steady diets of most inhabitants. Parties filled every block. Clubs were packed, bars were busy, and a simple walk down the street brought a contact high.
The summer heat brought things to fever pitch. The energies were amazing. One couldn’t help but get drawn in. One night, it was clubs with sexy women, driving music, and cheap beer, followed by an after hours party on a rooftop of an apartment building. The next night was a crowded bar with great live music, followed by a rowdy party in a nearby apartment. Still another was an all night party at a house across the street .There were no limits.
Being new to the city was no issue. There seemed to be a code amongst drunks; they, no we, talked to everyone. The only drunken strangers are those who chose to be, and even they had to walk away from us drunks who tried to converse with them. Even parties that were in private places were easy to get in. I would just bring a cheap pizza and walk right in the door. No one will turn away a pizza, especially when drunk.
On this particular night, I had checked out a few places after drinking too much at my apartment. They were all dull, with only hardened, older drunks who cared more about drinking than partying. I decided to check out a place I knew would be happening. It was legendary for wildness, and held quite the legacy for rowdy rock and roll, not to mention an abundance of incredibly beautiful women.
The night was all too hot and very humid, with the overnight low of eighty three. The moon was nearly full, and helped light the darker areas of the city. Hot young chicks passed by while gabbing about nonsense to other hot young chicks. They were clearly students at the university too.
As I neared the place the music got louder and louder. It would be a wild one for sure! When I got to the bar, there was a long line, as bouncers were checking for underage drinkers. Before long, two skinny guys in cowboy hats got in line behind me. Actually, I heard their drawl before I saw them. The people in front of me were three guys and two women, obviously all together. I could see the two women were with two of the guys, and they were a closed clique. Nonetheless, I stole glances at the women, especially their beautiful legs and asses.
The guys behind me in those awful hats saw I was alone, and sensed a chance to talk with someone. No harm there. They explained that they were from Texas (there’s a surprise), and were in town for a visit. They wanted a wild time, and were asking about where the best places were. I explained that I had come up empty that night, and so that bar was the best bet. Then I warned them that the place can get pretty wild.
They stood there with wide eyes. The larger one told the other that he wasn’t sure about going in there, that a couple Texans in the big city might not fare well. I chuckled and said adventure is a good thing, and if they wanted dull, there were other places that could accommodate. The smaller Texan reassured, adding that they only get one night to be in a city. I found myself feeling bad for them, but glad I finally was living in a city. I was actually better off than someone!
Eventually we all made it inside, and it was a hell of scene. Women wore revealing clothes and moved with high levels of sexuality. Men tried to look tough, but revealed deep insecurities all too apparently. The music was loud and rowdy, and high energies ran rampid. Oddly, there wasn’t much of a line to get beer, though. It was as though everyone was broke, somehow, and was farming every sip. I grabbed two beers for myself and went to check opportunities to meet women. I doubted I would get to, as they all seemed to be with someone.
I took to enjoying the music, absorbing the energies, and making light conversation with whoever I came across. I did speak with a few women who came over to me, but that was ended when their boyfriends came over to round them up while giving me the evil eye. Not much else was going on, and I was feeling like an outsider for the first time since I first moved to the city.
Eventually, the two Texans showed up. They had decided to stay close to the only person the “knew.” Great. There would be no meeting chicks or even finding new people to converse with. The two Texans were too scared to talk with anyone else. They chose me because I was backwoods enough to put them at ease. I tried to make conversation with others, and include the Texans. Neither side was interested. The Texans were only into comparing everything with Texas. Like I gave a fuck about how things were in Texas!
The night rolled on. I enjoyed the music, but nothing else was developing. The Texans continued rambling and insisting I hear every line of bullshit and everything they found amusing. Then they interrupted when I tried to talk with a hot blond woman who seemed interested just to say that one of them had to use the restroom. It wasn’t that I thought I’d get her, necessarily, but it’s always good to seem like one is happening enough to converse with beautiful women. It helps the image, not to mention providing masturbation material later. I was getting pissed.
When I finished my second beer, I decided to leave, partly to get rid of the Texans. I made the mistake of telling them I was going. They followed. I thought I might be able to convince them to buy beer and follow me to find a party somewhere, but they didn’t want to spend the money.
As we reached the door, the smaller one declared he had to use the bathroom and disappeared through the crowd. The larger one stood there looking stupid with that damn hat and saying nothing. We were just at the edge of the crowd, so I stole glances at hot feminine legs to distract from the bad night. The band played on. The place was packed and rowdy.
A woman I hadn’t seen tapped me on the shoulder and spoke. I couldn’t hear her. She leaned in close. Her sexy voice gave me a hard on.
“Who is that? Why does he have a fucking cowboy hat on?”
“Oh, him? He’s one of the village people.”
I meant it as a joke.
Instead of laughing, she told her friends ahead of us. They told more people. Word spread rapidly. The next thing I knew, the Texan was being lifted up by the crowd. They carried him on a wave toward the stage. The terrified Texan yelled, kicked, and screamed, but it was drown out by chants of “YMCA, YMCA!” They put the man on the stage. The singer of the band came over and put his arm around him, while continuing to sing, as the crowd continued to chant “YMCA YMCA!” the Texan stood frozen with a bright red face.
The other Texan came out, ready to leave.
“Whoa. We gotta wait for your friend.”
“Where is he?”
I motioned to the stage. He froze too. His face was almost as red.
The song ended, and the singer shook the Texan’s hand, then motioned for him to get off the stage. As he left and hurried through the crowd, chants of “YMCA” were stronger than ever. When he reached us, he just rushed out the door. The other Texan rushed to keep up. I left slowly, hoping they’d leave. They waited half a block away.
“Thanks for showing us around. We gotta go now. Nice to meet you.”
“Sure. Take care. Enjoy your trip.
They were so shaken that I felt guilty. Then again, it was probably the most memorable night they’ll ever have in their lives. The thought saddened me terribly. I stopped at a quiet bar and bought a six pack, then went home to put my past behind me.

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

low enough

You turn on the tv to provide a distraction
from your worries.
There is no need to further obsess
over the mounting unpayable bills
when you have no money

Or stress over the waste
of having paid tens of thousands for a degree,
just as an economic depression hit.

You need a break from
the wasting away of your being
or the rotting away
of a body so worn from struggle.

The movie on tv is about affluent tv producers
Bringing in more money
than three fourths of the country

They flaunt their attractive bodies under
tight fitting, overpriced clothes
and sip expensive drinks
at expensive clubs
with other affluent, attractive people.

They wine and cry
about not being about to find the perfect mate
So they climb in and out of beds
with really attractive, affluent people
with similar whines.

All this does is remind you how low you are.
Turn the tv off, grab the wine, and chug.
Enough wine will make sleep easier.
Going to be a long day tomorrow.

low enough

You turn on the tv to provide a distraction
from your worries.
There is no need to further obsess
over the mounting unpayable bills
when you have no money

Or stress over the waste
of having paid tens of thousands for a degree,
just as an economic depression hit.

You need a break from
the wasting away of your being
or the rotting away
of a body so worn from struggle.

The movie on tv is about affluent tv producers
Bringing in more money
than three fourths of the country

They flaunt their attractive bodies under
tight fitting, overpriced clothes
and sip expensive drinks
at expensive clubs
with other affluent, attractive people.

They wine and cry
about not being about to find the perfect mate
So they climb in and out of beds
with really attractive, affluent people
with similar whines.

All this does is remind you how low you are.
Turn the tv off, grab the wine, and chug.
Enough wine will make sleep easier.
Going to be a long day tomorrow.

what's their hurry?

Some seem to spend an awful lot of life preparing for,
wondering about, fearing, or otherwise thinking about death.
Waste, waste, waste.

Reading about serial killers, studying battles.
Reading crime novels, watching murder on tv,
Thrill, thrill, thrill.

Making wills, buying burial plots, saving for
or insuring for their funeral, debating cremation,
Plan, plan, plan.

Fantasizing about having had many lives and many deaths,
Who they were centuries ago, always grand
Dream, dream, dream

Fearing God and giving blindly to anyone who says “Jesus,”
Believing Dante or voting in the Republicans (which rushes the death of the whole of civilation),
Fear, fear, fear

Or throwing themselves off bridges, taking poison.
Positioning the gun just right

What’s their hurry?
Hasn’t death won enough already?


Scientists that has access to all levels of research
done for decades or even centuries
to test and test and retest and retest
proving this and that
building on knowledge and advances
Marching society ever further and faster
than the now proven evolution
those that we all owe so much to
in our daily lives

Yet, on tv and radio
they are reduced to begging people to understand
varying dangers from climate change to food safety
They sit opposed to quacks
with narrow and incorrect views of the bible

The tv and radio shows treat them as equals
instead of the opposites they are;
The Sane vs the stupid

Saturday, May 15, 2010

inspiring poem by Bukowski

so you want to be a writer?
by Charles Bukowski

if it doesn't come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don't do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don't do it.
if you have to sit for hours
staring at your computer screen
or hunched over your
searching for words,
don't do it.
if you're doing it for money or
don't do it.
if you're doing it because you want
women in your bed,
don't do it.
if you have to sit there and
rewrite it again and again,
don't do it.
if it's hard work just thinking about doing it,
don't do it.
if you're trying to write like somebody
forget about it.

if you have to wait for it to roar out of
then wait patiently.
if it never does roar out of you,
do something else.

if you first have to read it to your wife
or your girlfriend or your boyfriend
or your parents or to anybody at all,
you're not ready.

don't be like so many writers,
don't be like so many thousands of
people who call themselves writers,
don't be dull and boring and
pretentious, don't be consumed with self-
the libraries of the world have
yawned themselves to
over your kind.
don't add to that.
don't do it.
unless it comes out of
your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would
drive you to madness or
suicide or murder,
don't do it.
unless the sun inside you is
burning your gut,
don't do it.

when it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by
itself and it will keep on doing it
until you die or it dies in you.

there is no other way.

and there never was.

Monday, May 10, 2010

such days

The job was a popularity contest conducted by the tough guys. To be in the contest, one had to be physically large, powerful, and have endured a lot of physical punishment in their lives. They had a certain brotherhood. The rest of us were second rate because we were smaller. The bigger guys in the brotherhood took turns to see who could be the meanest to the smaller guys. Those who were not mean enough were out of the brotherhood. Few made the decision to exclude themselves from such membership. They didn’t last long with the company.
Exceptions to the less than huge being bullied were the few who had reputations for being either crazy or tough enough to do damage. They were largely left alone. I was one of them. This was due to a party some months prior at which a coked up nut job pointed a gun in my face over his girlfriend. I sat there coldly staring at death without blinking while the gunman raged. Unable to strike the fear of death in me, he got frustrated and left without firing a shot. One guy at the jobsite, Jason, knew of this, and told the others to leave me alone. More than a few doubted Jason on this, as they saw nothing to warrant caution.
Uneasy weeks rolled on as we all worked in the blazing sun on the remodeling site. I saw smaller guy after smaller guy come and go quickly. It happened like clockwork. The guy would start on a Monday, get bullied and harassed all day, be intimidated to where he doubted himself and feared getting a beating, and quit by Tuesday or Wednesday. The few that mouthed off would be beaten. I kept to myself.
Jason called off one day, due to his three year old being sick. Doug was the biggest and meanest guy there. He hated Jason, but didn’t dare challenge him dead on. Instead, he decided to take me on when Jason was absent, to prove Jason wrong and boost his status.
First Doug began belittling my work. I was a mix of gofer and hammer swinger, known for speed, not for power. I worked feverishly. It was my style, and all I had. It wasn’t enough for Doug, or so he pretended. He barked, I hustled. Part of the reason I did was it was early and I wasn’t yet fully awake. As I grew more awake, I grew angrier at Doug. The others in the brotherhood stayed quiet. I thought they knew something.
Finally lunchtime arrived. I was famished. The brotherhood headed off to eat huge amounts of food and tell each other how tough they were. The other guys left in trucks to get burgers. I was broke, so I sat off to the side and ate my sandwhiches and smoked. I heard the brotherhood hooping and hollering. Deep laughter filled the remodeling site.
The other smaller guys weren’t yet back from the burger joint when the brotherhood decided work was to begin. The foreman was usually gone from the site, but was known to watch from a distance to keep an eye on things. He hadn’t been on the site all day, so the brotherhood was in charge.
Doug called to me. His tone was stern.
“You, little shit, go over to the pile of rocks and smooth them over. The landscapers need to work there this afternoon. Start with the larger rocks near the back of the garage. No, first, get that log out of there. Toss it in the woods. Hurry it the fuck up! Come on, get moving!”
I walked over to the garage. There were sizable rocks there, but I didn’t know why they should be moved. The log, I could understand though. The brotherhood had been near there for lunch, so they probably saw the area as an eye sore and decided I should clean it up. I didn’t care, as I got paid the same no matter what.
I came to the log, and hurriedly lifted one end to begin tossing it away. The log came up easily. It was dried out and weighed even less than I thought. I tossed it, and then heard the worst sound one can hear from a log; loud buzzing!
A cloud of really pissed off yellow jackets rose from nowhere. I turned and ran, full sprint. The brotherhood laughed in the distance. A few wasps got me. I ran faster. The brotherhood laughed harder. The buzzing grew louder. I ran even faster. The sound of laughter grew louder and louder.
They didn’t realize I was running right at them. By the time that reality set in, it was too late. They yelled
“NO! NO! Run the other way!”
Not a chance in hell. I ran right at the brotherhood, in full sprint. The fat fuckers couldn’t accelerate, and the bees needed a good target. I would bring them one. It was me or the brotherhood, and you just knew who it’d be!
I made sure to pass Doug first, and delighted in hearing him cuss as the cloud of wasps engulfed him. I was being stung less and less as I heard the brotherhood yelp more and more. Before I knew it, no wasps were chasing me.
When I had tired of running and was sure no more bees were coming, I stopped and watched the aftermath. The brotherhood and the laughter could not be found or heard. A pickup came driving down the lane. The driver was laughing hysterically. The passenger was the foreman. The truck stopped and the drivers’ window rolled down.
“Are you ok, son?” He hardly held his snicker.
“yeah, I only got ten stings or so.”
“Let me introduce myself. I’m Dan. I own the company.”
“Oh, nice to meet you.”
“That was the gawddamned funniest thing I ever saw! You really turned it on them! Hilarious! Hop on back, we’ll give you a ride.”
I hopped in the back of the truck and we made our way down to the site. Members of the brotherhood meandered everywhere. Big red spots covered their bodies. Dan and the foreman laughed and laughed. I didn’t dare.
An angry Doug approached, giving me the evil eye.
“That fucker! He ran toward us deliberately! Did you see…”
“Yeah, I saw the whole thing. We were sitting up there watching to see what you guys were up to. We saw it ALL.”
Doug turned and walked away. A few of the other members of the brotherhood snickered, even as they had been stung too. Dan announced that the day was over because of the bee attack. The brotherhood piled into trucks. Dan gave me my day’s wage and added a hundred bucks, saying it was worth it for the entertainment, and gave me a ride to the bus stop. As he dropped me off, Dan advised me to not come back. The brotherhood would not take kindly to the bee thing. Then he gave me another hundred and bid me good luck.
I rode the bus to the first bar, and got off. I needed some drink to counter the bee stings. Alcohol was invented for such days.


muted television gleaming light
of tired ideas that still bring profit

blank computer screen awaiting brilliance
only to be filled with jibberish

newly formed couple whose footsteps echo in silence
to bring lifetimes of agony

new memories waiting to be filled
and more regrets to pile

new sunrise bringing a new day
of burning through more money

so much wasted potential
so much wasted life
but only when considering alternatives

Saturday, May 1, 2010

The Accord

The alarm went off at five thirty in the evening. I hit the snooze button, stretched out, and lay there looking at the alarm clock. I tried to focus on the number to get the haze out of my eyes, and awaken my intellect. Why was the alarm set for five thirty? Gradually it came to me; my girlfriend had free tickets to a concert and invited me to go with her and a couple of her friends. I tried to remember what time I had to be ready. I knew it was earlier than normal, as per the concert. She was usually to my place around seven thirty on Saturday nights. Oh shit! Was I to be ready by six?!
I jumped up in a panic. I just take short naps on Saturdays after my part time job, because the start time is much earlier than my full time job. I had to shower, shave, and be drunk enough to not spend too much at the Tacoma Dome! I grabbed what was left of the box wine and rushed into the bathroom. I took off my clothes and got into the shower with the box wine. I lifted the box up, put the nozzle to my mouth, and turned it. The wine trickled down my throat for thirty seconds straight. One more tilt for good measure. I grabbed a quick shower and hopped out. I quickly dried off, got dressed, and poured a glass of wine. Then I found my pack of smokes. There were just two left. Fuck! I’d have to get more before the concert.
I texted Zantha to ask when they were picking me up. There was no response. I drank more wine and finished my smoke. Still no word. The window was open and she always parks right in front of my window. I could always tell when she arrived. I sat drinking the wine rapidly. I’d never been to a major concert before, and so I was excited. Around six thirty she texted that they were on the way. I responded about the smokes, that we needed to stop at the bottom of the hill. I refilled my glass and lit my last smoke. Twenty minutes later she texted back, saying I should walk down the hill and buy the smokes. They’d pick me up near the main road to the freeway.
I poured my wine into a Styrofoam cup and headed down the hill. It was a bright and beautiful day, and plenty of attractive women were everywhere and wore revealing clothes. I walked quickly but carefully as I sipped my wine. In three minutes, I was at the store. I dropped the cup in the trash, rushed in, bought two packs of smokes, and rushed out. I quickly lit a smoke once outside, and rushed toward the main drag. A white Accord swerved in front of me, and I saw Zantha in the back. I rushed over to the other back door, dropping my smoke on the way.
“Hi Beautiful!”
I leaned over and kissed her. She tasted like vodka, a taste I am rather fond of. Her top was so very nice, as it revealed her great breasts and wonderous curves. Her skirt flowed beautifully, and suggested the prizes that were hidden underneath. Her long hair flowed magically, and accented an expression of fun and mischief. A devilish grin capped a perfect start to a great evening.
In the passenger seat sat Dora, Zantha’s close friend. She was excited too, sitting there in more conservative clothes. She was all smiles and laughs, and conveyed a great evening that sat ahead. The driver was a friend of Zantha’s that I hadn’t met, Chad. His hair was very short. He appeared very straight laced, but drove aggressively and seemed to be trying very hard to seem like a happening dude. I faced the outside window to roll my eyes without being noticed.
Zantha pulled out a bottle of lemon lime soda and took a big gulp, then passed it to me. It was mostly vodka. I took a big gulp. The vodka burned so very well. Then she handed it to Dora. After Dora took several gulps, it came back to Zantha. Chad didn’t drink. Ever. My old boss told me to never trust anyone who didn’t drink. I was about to find out why.
Chad couldn’t drive. He veered in and out of lanes on the busy freeway and rode bumpers all the way south. If someone had treated me that way on the freeway, I’d have kicked their ass. He complained that we would miss the opening act, even as his ticket was free. I struggled to hear him, but every time I did, I wished I hadn’t.
After a while, Zantha asked him about his going on E harmony to find himself a woman. He responded enthusiastically. Just to see what I was dealing with, I pointed out that e harmony was headed by a radical religious man who hated gays and tried to indoctrinate people. As I somehow knew he would, Chad asserted that all marriage is Christian. Sigh. I argued, he argued. The two women shut down the debate before it started. I chugged more vodka. We rolled on.
As predicted, Chad got lost. We asked directions, and they helped. We arrived near the Dome, parked, and rushed to make a train to the Dome. The train came, we got on, and the packed train rolled to within blocks of the Dome. We rushed to the dome as I smoked. We got in quickly, tracked down our seats, and settled in, just in time for a few more sets before a break in the music.
The Dome was huge! Mountains and valleys of people filled from end to end. There were older people, teenagers, and all in between. Many brought young children, which was appalling. There were many attractive women, but few to none had a body like Zantha. Her ass would make any guy drool!
The stage seemed tiny from where we sat. I grew bored with the rap group that was on stage, so I offered to get Zantha and me a cup of wine. She nodded agreement, and I went out to the stand. The older plump woman behind the stand asserted that I could only buy one cup of wine at a time, so they could ensure that no one underage got alcohol. I bought one cup and returned to Zantha and her ass.
We made short work of the cup. I would have gone back for more wine, but Zantha was dancing, and her hot ass was wriggling right in front of me. That was better than wine, so I sat there watching. The music ended a bit too early though, so we all piled out to get wine. Chad took off to scout chicks. Who knows, I thought, maybe he’ll meet someone as fake and stupid as he is. God knows there are plenty out there.
The three of us stood in line. Dora asked Zantha were the hell she found that guy. Those were my sentiments exactly. Dora was doing my work. Zantha told a rather lame story, the issue died out a bit. Before long, we ordered wine and returned to our seats for the main act. I finished my wine and got another cup before the show began. Chad was nowhere to be found. Maybe someone else got annoyed by him and was less kind than I was. I smiled about the possibility until I realized there was no ride home if something did happen to him. The music started. It was pretty catchy, and I found myself dancing with Zantha instead of watching her hot ass. Around the fourth song, Chad showed up. Shit.
I grabbed another cup of wine, then another. By then I was really into everything and having a great time, with one exception. I needed to smoke. I asked the old women at the wine stand where I could smoke. They began telling stories about when there were areas to smoke. That didn’t do me any good at all. I asked the young janitor. He advised me to smoke in the bathroom. I decided to hold it. Surely the concert can’t last that long.
Twenty minutes later, I had to smoke. I told Zantha about the whole thing, and that I was gonna smoke in the bathroom. She nodded, and said to text if I got kicked out. I walked to the bathroom. There was no one in there. I lit up a smoke and inhaled. Ahhhh! I smoked as fast as I could. The cigarette was almost done when a loud knock struck the stall door.
“Come on out! Open up! Now!”
I tossed the smoke in the toilet and flushed. I opened the door. There stood two fat security guards. They were pissed.
“Why’d you do it?! Why you smoking in the bathroom? Where’s your ticket? Come on. Outside!”
We walked out the door and stood in the hallway. There was a considerable crowd. The loudest security guard was the fattest. He held a full, but open bottle of beer, and waved it at me as he scolded.
“Come on, tell me why you did it. You knew goddamned well you can’t smoke in the bathroom. Why’d you do it?”
“There’s nowhere else to smoke. I looked everywhere.”
“Ok, that’s it! Where’s your ticket?”
“In my coat, on my seat, beside my girlfriend.” I interrupted.
“Ok, motherfucker, let’s go get your coat and your ticket! You gonna be a tough smart ass, I’m throwing your ass out! Where’s your fucking ticket?!”
As he yelled that, he waved the beer bottle at me a few times too many. I realized I could stun them by taking the beer. That thought was all I needed. I grabbed the beer from his hand and ran through the crowd. It was like defensive linemen chasing Barry Sanders. They were too fat to get through the crowd. My thin body went right through. In ten seconds, I lost them. When I reached another section, I went in, climbed thirty feet of stairs to the top. I took a moment to catch my breath, and then chugged the bottle. I sat the now empty bottle down and calmly weaved my way back to my seat.
Zantha was still dancing. Sweat was rolling off her. I sat down for a while and watched that hot ass again. Then I got up and danced. I wanted another cup of wine, but was afraid of being kicked out, so I just danced. Before I knew it, the concert was over, and people were spilling out. I told Zantha what happened with security, but I doubt she believed me.
Eventually we made it outside, and I lit a smoke. We hustled down the street, as Chad excitedly rambled about nothing to anyone who’d listen. It was actually a little entertaining at that point. Maybe I was wrong about him. After all, Zantha had seen something in him. What that might have been was anyone’s guess.
When we had parked, I remembered it to have been north. I was sure of it. Chad insisted we board the south train. I questioned him.
“Does it loop around, then? We are parked north. This train goes south.”
“No. It doesn’t loop at all. It’s the right direction.” He scoffed.
“But we are parked up there.”
“It doesn’t loop. It’s the right train.”
He walked away, scoffing like a ten year old.
“Ok, Zantha. I don’t know this town that well. I hope he knows where he’s going.”
I needed wine and more smokes. Ideally we could go to a decent restaurant for ok food and decent wine, and where I could smoke outside. The train arrived, heading south. We piled on the crowded craft, and went south. I watched intently. We travelled south four blocks, and LOOPED AROUND. We were heading north within minutes. I caught Zantha’s eye, and shook my head. I leaned down and whispered.
“Can’t get a straight answer from that guy.”
We arrived at our station, finally, and got off the train. Chad skipped ahead, prancing and singing. I calculated the time until we either arrived at my place or at a restaurant. I needed wine and smoke, and was getting hungry, not to mention annoyed at Chad. He was like an eight year old, and yet propped himself up as being charge. I was sickened, but tried to remain positive for fear of ruining the evening. Besides, in short order, Zantha would be at my place, drinking wine and laughing. It would all be alright.
We piled in Chad’s Accord and took off. Immediately Chad put on bad rap music and energetically danced and sang. Then he cranked it up to ear piercing levels. The lyrics sucked. If I had a dime for every time they said “Ho,” “Whore,” or Bitch,” I’d have retired. Chad skipped songs, and pointed out all the ones he wanted us to think were his faves. He had a captive audience, and showed no mercy. He drove erratically and talked tough. I rolled my eyes as he show cased himself as the cock of the walk.
Any other situation with anyone else, and I’d have either told him to shut up or actually smacked him, but this was Zantha’s friend. I calculated how long the torture would last. It was just too long. I turned my attention to Zantha, kissing and licking her shoulder. Chad angrily turned on the dome light, and my eyes felt punched.
I faced away from Zantha to hide my expression of sheer hatred. My anger was boiling! It was alarmingly close to my punching Chad right where he sat. That piece of fucking shit pulls that?! It took everything I had to not hit the fucker right then and there. I resolved this only by promising myself that I would someday get to beat the shit out of him, when Zantha wouldn’t know about it.
The torture continued. I kept quiet, for fear of showing my anger. Chad kept showcasing himself; what he liked, what he thought, the music that moved him, where he liked to eat, the time he dared to lick someone’s nipple in public (but it was dark, you see?). On and on and on. Dora and Zantha laughed at many things he said. I was ready to puke.
Then they talked of going to a restaurant. FUCK! Don’t get me wrong, I was hungry too, but enough was enough. I mentioned to Zantha that we could go to my place, with the intention of the two of us going somewhere decent. She declined, stating that she was very hungry. I was stuck.
Chad exited the freeway, and took the longest route possible to restaurants in the international district. HIS fave restaurants were there, he claimed. Finally he parked the car. We piled out and began searching for a place to eat. Chad was pointing to his “faves,” and relating stories to each place. None were believable. I could feel the scowl on my face, so I kept quiet.
Finally they picked a Chinese place. We went in, and I could see it was a bad restaurant. Then again, I thought it was my mood, so I got up from my seat right away, and went to smoke and reset my mood. I walked outside and lit a cigarette. The area was a shithole, and angry homeless guys were everywhere. I knew them well, and knew better than to be in such an area. Nonetheless, they were better company than Chad.
A guy came up and demanded a cigarette.
“Sorry. Had to bum this one.”
“Oh, I see. It’s because I’m black. You’d give one to a white guy..”
“Don’t pull that with me. I had to bum this one. I don’t have any more.”
He grabbed the cigarette and ran off. Fuck! Now I had to face Chad. Fuck! I walked in and went to the table. The three of them sat looking at menus. There was no menu for me. Great. I sat down and tried to reset my mood. I wondered if someone might notice I had no menu. No one did. I looked off Dora’s, reading upside down and making a point of it. The wait staff was too busy for me to get their attention. Anyway, cashew chicken is usually a good bet.
The waiter came over and we ordered. I was amazed Chad allowed the ladies to order first. How noble. Immediately after the orders went in, Chad began yacking about himself. Ugh! As the other three of us grew silent, Chad made a plea;
“You two have each other, and Dora has someone to go home to. I have no one. This is it for me.”
If he were capable of conversing and not being an asshole, the plea would have worked. Then again, if that were the case, I wouldn’t have wanted to hit him as badly as I did. Who knows, it might have been a good time. However, there we were, a captive audience for the likes and character of Chad, endless, merciless. I regretted my own birth in those hours.
The food arrived and it sucked, just as I knew it would. There went thirty five dollars that could have been used for food that didn’t taste like wet laundry. I shoveled the cashew chicken, so as to not notice the blandness and terrible texture. Dora stared at hers, as in holding a disbelief as to how bad it was. Zantha ate heavily, as hers was obviously ok. Chad slowly ate at a heaping pile, being sure to drag it out as long as was humanly possible. Fuck!
I finished and went to smoke. By then I was so fucked off that I hoped the fucker that stole my cigarette came by looking for trouble. I was going to kick his ass. He didn’t though, and I finished that one without incident. After finishing the smoke, I stood outside for a while longer. There was no need to hurry back to listen to Chad showcase himself.
When I did go back, he was still taking his time eating and running his mouth. I showed pure exacerbation. I couldn’t hold it back. Zantha saw it purely. Dora saw it too. I was pissed! When the waiter came over to try to sell dessert, etc., I interrupted and asked for the check. Chad had a mouthful, and so couldn’t object. The check arrived, and I plopped money on the tray for meals for me and Zantha. Dora had her card ready. Chad sat there eating and talking and talking and talking. If looks could kill, I’d be in prison for murder.
Finally at long last, Chad finished eating! Yes! He plopped down cash. The waiter was fast, thank god, and we were cleared for takeoff. My spirits rose at the thought of the torture ending. I don’t live that far away, after all. The motley foursome finally left the restaurant and piled in the Accord. Immediately, the bad rap played, and Chad danced as he drove. At least the car was moving though.
Then my hopes were slaughtered. I should have expected it though. Chad drove through the busiest, slowest sections of the city. It was near two, closing time, and traffic sucked. People who had been in pleasant company all evening were piling out of the bars. Chad pointed to all the bars and made up stories about each one, usually about hot chicks he met in the bar, and what they did. The Accord crawled among the traffic as he bragged about the chicks he did while the rap songs spoke of “Ho’s.”
As nicely as I could muster, I spoke up;
“It’s easiest to turn right on Broad.”
Chad scowled in the rearview. He repeated his earlier plea;
“You two have each other, Dora has someone at home. I have no one.”
I bit my tongue to keep from saying “No wonder.” Chad didn’t miss a beat, going right back to reliving fantasies about chicks in those bars. When he passed Broad Street, I silently pointed. Zantha nicely pointed out that we missed Broad Street. Chad huffed;
“Ugh! I am heading up Mercer! The way we came is fast too, and we get to see more bars.”
Zantha slouched, I tried to bury my scowl, and took long deep breaths. I really wanted to beat the shit out of him! The Accord was quiet, except for Chad, of course. We made our way onto fifth eventually, and I sat up to give directions to my apartment. I spoke in direct, no bullshit tones, barely hiding my hatred of dork.
“Straight up the hill. Keep straight.”
“Turn right at the next light. Turn left at this street”
Finally, at long, long, long, long, long, long, long last, the Accord pulled into my parking lot and stopped. I jumped out and was to Zantha’s side in a fraction of a second. Zantha hugged Chad. It’s a good thing she did, as I had been seriously considering punching him.
We made into my place. Zantha sat down. I began opening a bottle of wine. Neither said anything. I poured her a glass, then poured myself one. I drank the glass down in five seconds and refilled. She sat there half dazed.
“THAT will never happen again.”
Zantha look at me in a confused daze.
“I will never be around that piece of shit ever again, Zantha. Sorry, but your friend is shit.”
“I know he’s self absorbed, but I had no idea you hated him.”
“Are you kidding? Who could stand him? How did you stand him?”
In falsetto, I replayed his words, “You two have each other and Dora had someone waiting at home. I have no one… Yeah, maybe if he could CONVERSE, but fuck!”
She chuckled. I knew I had her there. I went on to make fun of him for an hour and a bottle of wine. Then we crawled into bed and had great sex before she fell asleep. I stayed up drinking for a while longer and wanted to kick Chad’s ass. I still do.