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Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Just keep smiling

Everyone knew Chuck was a good guy. He was tall, handsome, smart, and friendly. He’d give the clothes off his back. There was a downside. Chuck liked attached women. Married, engaged, committed. Whatever. He was always getting them. They couldn’t resist the charming looker. Chuck was always in trouble.
I was a distant friend. We drank together. He passed a couple attached chicks my way when I needed them. We hung out once in a while, part of a crowd that tried to get women. We’d hit the dive bars for cheap drinks, then hit the clubs. Chuck was a leader and something of a hero to many drunken guys. Many tried to copy Chuck. No one succeeded.
One night we did the usual. We hit the local dives, got drunk and high, then went to a happening bar. It would be crowded and hopping. Chuck had been bragging about a blond he had a few nights back. He detailed her body, her voice, her climax. He was bothered because she cried afterward. She was engaged, and actually loved the guy she was with. Now it was over.
No one imagined Chuck could be sentimental. The whole thing bothered him, for some reason. His face reflected pain. He walked hunched over, defeated and broken. We tried to cheer him up. It was no use.
We walked into the bar. The band played and hot women ran around in next to nothing. We stood and checked out the crowd, inventing strategies to find women. Chuck had lived up, as we knew he would.
There was some yelling in the distance. Suddenly I saw a big guy coming at us. He was airborne with fists flying.
Chuck yelled, “It’s him!”
The scene unfolded in slow motion. I was too slow. The punch hit me harder than I thought possible. I flew against the wall, but somehow didn’t fall down. The sound of “Ohh” filled the bar. All eyes were on me. The puncher got up and looked at me. It was confusion.
For some reason, I was smiling. Maybe it was being able to take such a hit. Maybe it was what I had wound up.
My fist was on route. My back and legs added to the force. My fist was more than half way there when I found myself airborne. The bouncer had intervened. The door collided with my head, or vice versa. I was on the sidewalk. Blood ran everywhere. I jumped up, too pissed to see straight. I was going to kick somebody’s ass!
Two cops rushed past me. I heard the sound of brawl inside, and rethought my wanting to go back in there. A third cop stopped and yelled;
I waited for the cop to go inside, then I left. What? Was I that stupid? Would my going to jail help anything?
In the end, Chuck had been beaten pretty bad. He would never be the Chuck we knew. The fight had pounded sense into him. The bar was left in bad shape. The fight made the newspapers. The cops remembered to look for me. They never found me.
The guy who beat chuck was a brute, and known for violence. No one took him on. However, from that night on, he left as soon as I showed up. I was a legend, and my smile remembered. I will never forget the look of shear terror that man gave. He hit me with all he had, and saw me standing there smiling. I know it was just the wall holding me up, but I never had to hit him or even speak to him, and he feared me terribly.
Just goes to show the importance of being able to take a hit and keep smiling.

Tuesday, June 22, 2010


She would leave on a Sunday night
Or a Monday morning
Leaving me with a dead place
Haunted with passions

I would walk in after minutes or a day
See my mess and hear vacancy
Glance for a nugget she may have left behind
Never a lonlyness that deep

Gradually the place would feel mine again
Not ours. Not about her.
I’d drink and smoke and write
Nasty stuff, but true

On many levels, I would look forward
to her coming back and
drinking with me
before going to bed

the next day she would leave the place just as dead
as empty as the graveyard
as I lied in bed like a corpse with a pulse
but not as dead as most.


“Do you want me to take my robe too?
It’s the most intimate thing I have here.”

“No. you don’t have to take anything.
Just thought you wanted to.”

Her backpack was full.
The tears in her eyes were more full.

A long embrace in the same messy kitchen
as when we met the first time.

She stood sighing, sad, driving forward
Or backward. Away one way or another.

She didn’t look back or forward
just didn’t want to be where she was

Kisses, gentle and other
passions and caresses

Last touches of a love
building for some time

Eruption as tears escape the hot eyes
and burning emotions

tears making a run for it
falling to the floor and sizzling

Lying side by side, intense crying
holding, comforting, reassuring, ending

Wine no longer flows.
Laughter a distant memory.

Silence smashed by sobs
sense of rot strenches the air

Wide eyed and broken
weathered face sees through darkness.

with glazed over eyes
been here, done that

Another chapter winding down
reluctant yawns, hating the coldness

Within a day the bed will be cold
even the shadows will forget the moves of love

Life swallowing silence will take over
memories fade to dismissal

Lifeless rooms, cold bed
numb mind, drunken body

Remembering what may not have been
what shouldn’t have began or ended

Return to normal half life
only sound of fans as company

All good things must come to an end.

Saturday, June 19, 2010


We talked and drank and smoked
As I tried not to look at the roll
That greatly surpassed her tits
As she sat drinking and smoking
But no one could help but notice

We talked and drank and smoked
And I sized her up
She was a merely decent looking woman
But pleasant, likeable, intelligent
There was also obvious availability

We talked and drank and smoked
on the porch while others milled about
we covered politics and personalities
ethics and commonalities
no fluff, right to the point

we talked and drank and smoked
and she began telling me
what she found attractive about me
face, arms, legs, smarts, personality
I thought she was going to make a pass

We talked and drank and smoked
And she went on
To say that there was one thing
that detracted from my attractiveness;
my belly is too big.

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

old saying

Before writing the nights away
I worked seven days a week
Impossible hours, impossible conditions
Year after year after year
Never missing one day

Then the economy collapsed
I got stuck working just forty five hours a week
Instead of a hundred and ten
Rotting and wasting, getting in trouble
Losing my mind

I started writing; poems, stories, novels,
I was addicted immediately
Now I sit and drink and smoke and write
Deep into the night
Churning out work after work after work

As I think of it, I have actually managed
to combine workaholism and alcoholism
and now I cannot stop either.
Frying pan and fire;
not just an old saying

Lessons from old houses

The old houses are still standing in those towns
A century or more of memory, few good

Thick dust pours from every crack
Dead with past subsistence
Alive with warning of wasting lives
The timeless struggle before death

Houses were made of lumber back then
Actual lumber, from trees
Built to last centuries
Warehouse generations of cheap labor

They appear sad from the front
To remind adults that live there
that their fates are sealed
destined for dust

Who owns who? The house have seen their kind
Watched them decay from young and vibrant
To old and broken and dying,
Decade by decade, generation by generation

Walk those streets today and see
The generations turned to dust and vague memory
Struggles that led nowhere
Old dreams that died, whether realized or not

Remember all those that pinned their existence
To “owning” those houses, laboring decades
They’re all gone, but the houses remain
To trap more into laboring decades for the house that’ll outlast

The streets are filled with warnings
Lifetimes of struggle and savings
Leave nothing when all’s said and done
When existence is wasted

Tuesday, June 1, 2010


Has “One more” ever been literal?


A body inside a silent apartment
Mulling over what a life is to become
Concentrating on direction, occupation
Obligation, copulation, masturbation
Considering politics, policy, tragedy
Dumb luck, sperm lottery of inheritance
Power, prestige, nobility
Hopelessness, homelessness, despair
Rot, ruin, death, pain, torture
Broken hearts, divorce, expense
Happiness mythology, chemicals,
Violence, repression, war, famine
Cruelty, hatred, social hierarchy
Childhood, adulthood, ancient civilization
Food, hunger, work, reward
Animal, passion, horniness
ranking, shopping, consuming
Spending, paying, fitting in
Going without, going green, being proper
Getting drunk and passing out

While birds sing cheerfully outside the window

Better answers

“What are your intentions with me?”
She sat looking apprehensive, her thin legs crossed. The look of hope and confusion combined to make a pitiful sight.
I hesitated to answer. I wasn’t prepared and had a massive hangover.
“This? First thing in the morning?”
“I have another guy I spent nights with. I don’t need you. I just wanna know.”
“Huh? Wow!”
“Well, a girl like me is in demand. I can get anyone.”
“Ok, ok, but can’t we have coffee and get awake? I can hardly form words.”
“Oh, it’s like that. You can’t even tell me..”
“Yes, I can, just let me wake up first.”
A huge sigh came from deep inside her. I drank my coffee and smoked. Her face was red and getting redder.
“Are you awake yet?!”
I poured more coffee and lit another smoke. How could I deal with this? I was somewhat interested in more with her before, but after this? I stayed silent. She sat broiling. What did she want?! We had only known each other three weeks! The sex was good, and she was hot, but come on, three weeks?! And another guy?!
Still, the sex was good..
“Fuck this! I’m leaving! You are obviously only looking for fun!”
I said nothing, but let her go. The door slammed hard. I chuckled, and realized how lucky I was.
A week later she was back, but clarified that she was only looking for fun. I made her agree to no questions until my fourth cup of coffee. She never asked a question of me again. A month later she was with someone else. I guess he had better answers.

Singing beautiful songs

I remember having a huge crush on a woman in the small college town in which I once lived. Her name was Silvia. She was tall and thin, with long dark hair, very French, and had a rocking ass. While many attractive women had such qualities, Silvia was special. She had fire, intellect, and fairness, not to mention being fun loving. That combination drove me wild. Of course, Silvia was always with someone, so it was difficult to find opportunities to make a move.
I had moved to Pittsburgh to try my luck in a city for the first time, but still found myself longing for Silvia and the company of a few others from that town. At the time, I was pretty hard core in partying, and almost always had some fun substances on me for such special events. People knew when I’d be in town, and often made sure to be around. It was always a hell of a great time.
Gradually I became more severe in the party scenes, and was increasing seen as being from the city, so I was something of a novelty in the town. When I’d show up to visit, I would first arrive at Silvia’s. My priority was to attempt to get her. Her boyfriends were not amused. Her girlfriends acted stranger over time, but still came to have a good time.
One night Silvia wasn’t home. I was supposed show up at seven at night. I knocked on her door. There was no answer. I was going to wait in my car when her boyfriend, Brian, showed up. He was a tall, goofy looking hippy type guy that loved lsd and shrooms more than alcohol. We didn’t care for each other, but had mutual interest in seeming friendly.
“You lookin’ for Silvia?”
“Yeah, we were to meet at Seven.”
“She’s out. Has a date with some guy. We ended two weeks ago. Still friends though.”
“Oh, sorry to hear that.”
Brian spoke through clenched teeth.
“So, she stood you up this time. Huh.”
“Oh hell, Brian, let’s just party.”
I took out some beers, handed him one, then look out the coke, and cut some lines on the smooth clean stairs. We snorted the lines and chugged the beers. Brian brought out a bottle of vodka and a few hits of acid. We made short work of both as we took to bullshitting.
Before long a car pulled up with a couple inside. The male driver was rather large and clean cut. He had a very friendly, almost child like face. The passenger was Silvia, looking as hot as ever. Her smile was so genuine, and there was a rosy glow about her as they spoke. She kept glancing out the window at us, as if to let us know she was coming. Brian and I just watched and drank while sitting on the steps. After a few minutes, Silvia gave the baby face a little peck on the cheek and got out of the car.
She was hotter than ever. Her walk showed so much sexuality that I was instantly hard. Brian sat with his head down. She did not look back at the departing car, but just guided her amazing body at us. She smiled a devilish grin. She looked at me in such a way that made me think I was going to melt.
Brian spoke but continued to look down.
“How was your date?”
“It was good. We went to a great show and a wonderful restaurant. He was such a gentleman! Unlike you two, sitting here getting high and drinking!”
She picked up my beer and chugged it down. I cut three lines, and she snorted it quickly. Brian stood up and looked directly at her, but then took a soft stance before speaking.
“I have to go get ready to meet Kim. See you later.”
He left without looking back. Silvia looked at me and smiled. I almost fell in love.
“Come on up. I can’t party dressed like this, and you’ll get in trouble if I leave you here alone. I know you.”
We walked up the three flights of stairs to her place. She opened the door, and we went in. I wanted to make moves immediately, but it seemed wrong somehow.
“Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back, gonna go change. Then we’ll party.”
I sat down on her couch and cut six lines. I took three, then chugged beer. I went to her kitchen, opened the cabinet where she kept liquor and wine, found some opened wine, and helped myself. I was on my third glass when she came out. I still have it in my memory how she looked! Tight shorts, amazing legs, tiny top with pointed nipples… damn!
She sat down and finished the lines, and left a very feminine sigh. Damn again. We spoke about everything and nothing at once. Silvia told me she and Brian were taking a break, but were still together.
“I just need more fun. All Brian does is drop acid, take ‘shrooms, and party. Plus I found out he pierced some girl’s clit at a party that I wasn’t at. I mean, what is that? He doesn’t know how to treat a lady.”
Silvia drank some wine and lit a cigarette.
“He doesn’t appreciate wines. He’s sweet, but doesn’t do romance. The guy I was with tonight was romantic. Not many guys are romantic. You’re too much in to partying and fun.”
“But, to be fair, you’re into partying and having fun too. Can you do without that? It doesn’t seem like the guy you were with tonight is much for partying and having fun.”
“True enough. He’s nice. Polite. He treats women like ladies.”
“Hmm.. but he’s not here.”
Silvia laughed.
“No. No he isn’t.”
She picked up the wine bottle and took some swigs.
“We’re invited to some parties tonight. I have a couple I’d like to check out. You’ll like them. Just don’t get too fucked up too early, ok? I know you.”
“Ok, sounds like fun.”
We drank for a while longer, laughing and flirting. I kept looking for chances, but found none. I struggled to keep my eyes off Silvia but failed as usual. She didn’t mind at all, but kept my advances at bay with body language. After a while, her phone rang. She got up and walked over to answer. I nearly came just watching that ass and those legs. I paid no attention to the conversation.
“Ok. The best party is downstairs! That’s really cool! We don’t have to go far.”
The party was pretty lame, especially compared to what I knew in the city. Nonetheless, there were attractive women, plenty of alcohol, and lots of fun. Many guys flirted with Silvia, of course, including me. It struck me that those guys got further with her than the guy who had gone all out for their date. I wondered what that miserable guy’s night was like.
I did flirt with many women, and tried to with many more. None seemed overly interested, even as they tended my direction. The novelty factor of being “from the city” combined with a solid supply of drugs kept them interested. They kept looking Silvia’s direction. Silvia was making the rounds, and flirting with guys, but kept coming back to flirt more heavily with me.
An hour or so later, the party started to fizzle. Energy levels dropped. A few were yawning, and people left. It wasn’t a good night. Before long, there were just a few. Even with some coke, no one was as lively as Silvia and me. She asked me if I was ready to go. I was very ready. We said goodbyes and went back to her place. I always stayed there when I was in town. I slept on her futon in the living room. Silvia was always good to me.
When we arrived, Silvia looked at me before opening the door. Her expression showed a combination of sexuality, mischief, drive, and confusion. She opened the door and sexily walked in. I followed on a cushion of air. She stood in the middle of the living room for a brief moment, then walked into her bedroom. I silently followed. She looked back and began to undress. First her shirt came off, then she slid off her shorts. I took my shirt off, then my jeans, and began walking toward her.
It was then we heard it. There was squeaking and moaning coming from the floor above us. Brian lived in the apartment above Silvia. How was this to play out? I braced for the two possible scenarios.
Silvia undid her bra, and slid her panties around her hips. They fell to the floor. She picked up a bottle of whiskey and took a long swig, then laid down on the bed. I was on top of her in seconds, kissing and caressing. The foreplay intensified. We were all over each other, caressing, fondling, kissing, licking, and breathing heavy. Intense fucking followed, again and again. From the sounds above, Silvia and Brian were having a contest to see who could have the best fuck without being together.
After an hour and a half, Silvia won. I joked it was coke vs acid. Silvia laughed. I went for and received another round. After a drink of water, I got yet another round, but had trouble completing. Then we passed out.
In the morning, Silvia woke first and woke me up with a cup of coffee. We sat and talked like nothing happened. Nonetheless, once I got awake, I was able to get another round of sex (a quickie). We spent more time talking and having coffee. The morning was melting away. I thought maybe something more might develop. I certainly would have liked to have had more, even as I was grateful for what I had gotten.
Our talking was interrupted by a knock at the door. It was the large guy Silvia had dated. He walked in full of sunshine before Silvia could stop him. He stopped cold when he saw me. I was sitting there still in my underwear. I wasn’t sure whether he was going to cry or beat the hell out me.
“Oh, I see.”
He walked out.
“Chad! I’m sorry! Wait!”
“No, I saw that guy last night when I dropped you off. It’s ok, Silvia.”
Silvia was distressed, naturally, but she had an expression that showed an understanding of the natural, primal drives that underlie all human activity. After all, nice guys finish last. They may as well not even enter the race.
Silvia sat down and poured a glass from the half full bottle of wine from the last night. I poured one too. We drank a silent cheer for the primal condition we are all trapped in. The clang of our glasses colliding echoed through the emptiness of the apartment that the bright sunshine illuminated. It echoed still deeper to the emptiness of it all, as birds were heard outside singing beautiful songs.