Category Archives: Poetry And Prose

Behavior, Lemon Moment, Opinion, Personal, Poetry And Prose, Social Rules, Writing

Random Saturday

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Random Saturday

I stood on the landing outcrop. Light rain started about 6:15. It felt like a gift to just let it softly pelt me. Rain has been a distant stranger lately. It’s odd because some Septembers have been torrential.

Earlier, I mistook a visitor to be one of my neighbors. We exchanged pleasantries from opposite corners. I gave him the rest of a bottle of vodka. I already knew he had stayed up at night playing the role of reveler. He is very young, so burning the middle night oil is a requirement for him. It takes a long time to discover that almost everything that happens after 9 p.m. is probably not as meaningful as it seems. Perhaps I sound old saying that. I am old. But I have luckily not forgotten how stupid most of us were when we were younger. When misadventure was mistaken as a sign that we were living life to the fullest.

The picture of the teacup is from my recent jaunt and stay in Compton. Arkansas, not California. Sometimes I sign the inside of one of the teacups from my dear departed friend Jackie – and then hang it in plain sight. Erika signed this one with me. I dared the tall grass, chiggers, and hidden snakes to put it in a tree on the perimeter of the wilderness. I love imagining people finding them accidentally. Surely there are others like me who get lost in wondering about what led to it being placed there. I’ve left so many artifacts in Northwest Arkansas, some in the most unlikely places. A lot of them have been right under the noses of the people I know. Such secrets make me happy.

Did you know that smart televisions use about 18W of power? That’s about two LED light bulbs left on 24/7. It’s not a significant amount, but most people don’t even think about energy consumption for items plugged in yet turned off. Remember when grandma would unplug EVERYTHING because of “the electricity!”

For newer houses or remodels, I can’t believe electricians aren’t installing whole-house surge protectors. They reduce almost all chances of a surge damaging your electronics. I’ve yet to see a homeowner have it explained to him or her and have them say, “No, I don’t want that.” If I were using a rural power grid, it’s the best little bit of money you’ll ever spend. And might save your life, too. I’m surprised that many people don’t know that all power strips don’t offer surge protection. There’s a huge difference in the distinction. Another misconception: most people’s houses do nothing to stop lightning strikes from frying everything (Even really expensive surge protectors you bought at Best Buy). Whole house surge protection going through your main line is about the only way to avoid that sort of catastrophe. Really. It’s true.

Although people think it’s a boring subject, I’d like to mention water heaters, which use a huge chunk of your energy budget. First, most people have their water heaters set too high. Second, when you get a new unit, you should always buy a hybrid heat pump water heater. They pay for themselves in two to three years. They are incredibly efficient and will save you a LOT of money compared to a traditional one. Third, for the love of god, please install moisture-sensitive alarms near your water heater. (And fridge, too, if it has a water line.) Since I’m throwing out random facts, the average shower uses 2 gallons a minute. If you have a luxury bathroom, it might be twice that. Your dishwasher uses between 4 and 6 gallons of water. Larger tank water heaters are more “convenient,” of course, but most of the cost of your water heater is lost efficiency, as it must maintain a set temperature in the tank even when you’re not using it. Tankless and on-demand water heating systems are the best if you don’t have a large family or all six of your siblings living with you “temporarily” for five years while they “figure things out.”

By the way, it’s good to brag that your fridge or washer/dryer is twenty years old. Really, it is. What you don’t realize is that old appliance is drastically more expensive to use than their modern counterparts. Replacing the old one would have paid for itself in a few short years. The energy consumption of a new fridge versus one twenty years old is staggering. You might be saving something from going into the landfill, that’s true, but your carbon footprint is amazingly bigger due to the old appliance’s inefficiency.

I still get a lot of flack for being mostly oblivious to gas prices. I just don’t notice. I have to have gas, so the price is irrelevant. It’s made me much happier than most of the people I know. If money is tight, I would drive less – rather than obsess over getting the cheapest gas. I know someone who drove 11 miles in each direction to save twenty-five cents a gallon. (Excluding the fact that you wait in line and spend thirty minutes of your life going there and back. Time is not replaceable.) I calculated that it cost them $4.05 to drive. They retorted, “Aha! That’s less than I saved!” To which I replied (expecting that answer), “Aha! It costs an average of thirty-five cents a mile for the wear-and-tear and maintenance of your vehicle, doofus. Even if you don’t maintain your car properly, let’s say it’s fifteen cents a mile. You spent MORE driving to SAVE than you saved. It’s math, not your feelings.”

Confession: I am not a money genius. I waste it like nobody’s business. I acknowledge my stupidity, though – and try not to defend it.

Clever joke: hand someone a pair of work boots. They will undoubtedly say, “What are these for?” Just laugh and don’t explain the obvious comeback line to them. Just shake your head disapprovingly.
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i jumped from the bed as i always do

not caring, not looking, not even for a shoe

i remember when my body was a weight

as if i’m not it and it’s not me

i don’t worry about how i look

i’ve done what i can

every other man in the world can worry

not me, not ever, never again

i will take what i have

my battery was once low, my spirit unproud

now it’s me, ridiculous perhaps

it seems like arrogance though it’s not

its acceptance for the cards i’ve drawn

and the hand i’ve played with them

i hear the sand trickling down the glass

so it’s me, it’s you

we both better get off our ass

acceptance is cheaper than fixing what ain’t broken

choose your path, now that i’ve spoken

so many of you are beautiful

some inside, some out

yet you let temporary worry

fill you with doubt

Love, X
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Personal, Poetry And Prose, Writing

Time’s Rustle

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i got a brief unexpected glimpse

through peripheral eye

not indistinct
not vague

of a branched and labyrinth truncated future

every choice, each decision, and contrary whim

a scarcity of calendar turns

i stood breathless and in wonder

breathe in, breathe out, I whispered

above me, a bird perched on a branch

above it, a sky shielding me from the illusion of infinity

below me, the ground that belies impermanence

and the wind invisibly rustling

what more can I say
like another, just a day
if I squander this one
surely I must pay

not in dollars but in minutes

they do not casually pass me by

they flutter, then they fly

X
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Poetry And Prose, Writing

Instead

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They don’t know that one day he might leave

To a foreign place with both fear and a new beginning

The voice inside him says he must suffer the baptism of the unknown

The familiar and constant, the unease and discomfort, at least they will be new

He probably won’t though

Inertia and the familiar are both adhesive and demanding

But they don’t know sometimes his fast feet point in another direction

And he talks to his feet in his head

And stays

Instead

Behavior, Death, Opinion, Personal, Poetry And Prose, Social Rules

Caprice

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Preface: I wrote what follows this morning…almost as a coda, on the way to the apartment after work, a black Camaro zoomed impatiently into its left lane approaching me from the opposite direction. The driver was going too fast and over-corrected, sending him into my lane and luckily swerving wildly into the far lane next to me. I had no time to react, not even to stomp my brakes, which would have certainly resulted in a multiple-car pileup. As I passed without time to feel my heart accelerate, squeals, honks, and braking behind me filled the air. The driver of the Camaro managed to gain control without being hit. He stopped in the right lane facing oncoming traffic. The capricious and erratic symmetry of just living reared its head and whispered to me.
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All of these are true
none inscribed to change your hue

An undiagnosed cough ended on the kitchen floor
her love and life abruptly no more

Expert pilot fell to the ground
his loving sister to conjure the sound

A cluster of cells aligned with malignant intent
those around her yearning more time had been spent

The unbearable yet unbeatable beckon of alcohol
those who loved him clutching and watching his fall

A 92-year-old beloved woman took her last breath
a life well lived, met with welcomed death

An aneurysm unseen and unfelt and then all rendered past tense
no warning no reason no sense

Careless driver through the sign leaving one with an unfaithful spine
her arc of life flattened to a baseline

You worry about how you sound or look
how you sing, how you dance, how you might be mistook
any given moment, the universe can close your book

You have this moment to scribble your notes
to construct and imagine needless moats

Kind heart, clear eyes, and curious mind
make sure that you leave something meaningful behind

We are all preterit

This can both energize and immobilize, this insight into truth
beauty and love are in the eye of the beholder

May you live your life just a little bit bolder
no guarantee of life or that you’ll become older

Seize the day, come what may
otherwise, it will seize you
even if you do everything to perfection
these words are no mere early morning reflection
affection, expression, introspection
of these words, there is no question

X
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Lemon Moment, Personal, Poetry And Prose, Writing

Here & Now

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Roaring rivulets of running rain follow their path into the storm drain

The cooler air cracks and sparks with thunder and lightning

The chilly August air feels alien in comparison to days past

I don’t know where the water might go, and I don’t need to

It always finds a way

Holiness is knowing your ignorance and being aware of your limited imagination

Things follow their own path and nature takes its course

Were we able to allow ourselves to do the same…

We bring our past along like treasured baggage

We think it defines us when in reality it confines us

You can’t live the day until it arrives and you survive it

And perhaps it will put a smile on our faces, both the rain and this realization

As we run our races, barreling towards our own finish line

No matter where the water goes or where we shall end

This day is new

You should be too

X
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Fayetteville, Personal, Poetry And Prose, Psychology, Writing

though the sky is blue

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Because I’d been boiling myself off and on on the landing and baking in the sun, I turned the AC to 70. Because my AC and heat had to be completely replaced, given that it was from 1976, the new unit is incredibly powerful; its loud sound is relaxing. Güino decided to slumber in my office chair. He’s wandered the landing and the lower floor today several times. Instead of bothering him, I rolled him a foot away and pulled my red rocking chair up to the desk. It felt like I needed to write a couple of hundred words. A few thousand words later, all of it expunged from me in a single burst, I sat looking at the prism hanging outside through the slats of the window blinds. My metal front door is over 170 degrees again. I thought of all the energy reaching us from our nearest star, the sun. We only receive a sliver of its output. It provides enough energy in the form of light to power the entire world – if we’d let it. I think the same is true for each of us. Most of us have the gift of massive kinetic and potential energy inside us. It’s in our nature. Somehow, we allow our lesser forces to override our natural tendency toward power and movement. In my case, I’ve been busy. Being busy or productive isn’t always the best use of my time. It negates introspection and examining the things I’ve said and done with sufficient scrutiny. Life flicks by on lightning skates. It’s easy to live superficially, and sometimes this ease lulls us into thinking it is the preferable way. It’s not. A moment of thought, especially one of gratitude or appreciation, becomes twice as memorable when considered after the fact. Those thousands of words that poured effortlessly from my fingers as I sat here in the zone? They are some of the best words I’ve ever written. I feel it in my bones, the ones that now creak a little as they realize how long I’ve abused them.

Here:

though the sky is blue, you look to the ground out of caution
caution saves, but it also reduces
though the world is a palette of individuals, you seek understanding by viewing them through your own filter
though the world shall never spin according to your whim, you waste your
allotted moments by wishing it not to be so
the pond will fill if you hurl enough stones into it, though it will take years
your life will fill if you stop looking toward what lies behind you and spend your hours subtracting and adding according to your desires
the sky is blue, just for you
and for me
if we but let it be

X
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Monroe County, Personal, Poetry And Prose, Writing

and if i am not

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i am the prince of tides in my secret corners
imperfect yet unbound words, feeble purple prose, naive expression

i am the boy with muddy sun-browned bare feet
in the expansive tree looking below

the boy who loved his grandma and grandpa without limit
yet spent so much time in the small yet limitless world surrounding their modest tarpaper and tin roof house

i am the man who is not his missteps, his past, or his obstacles

i am known by a singular letter, born of a rejected name, burned by the pitiful and pointless ashes of anger and addiction

i have amassed twenty thousand two hundred and sixteen days of life

each of them begins anew, though i find myself waking to the next almost without edit

i can speak in a foreign tongue, stand amongst strangers without fear, walk further than most, and yet still discover i am where i started

i am not gossamer, invisible, or silent, though all sometimes would be better servants than my nature

and if i am not, who am i

i am

love, X
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Poetry And Prose, Romance, Story, Writing

La Tremana (A Story)

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It was raining. Of course. The bullets hit our heads like tiny bullets, each of us wincing and not wanting to react. We stood in a cluster, looking at the green carpet someone had carefully laid around the opening in the ground. Each of us was secretly holding back tears. Our incredulity was plainly and painfully written across our faces.

The minister somberly pronounced the words: “La Tremana,” he said, and something broke inside me. As I began to cough and sob, my burst of emotion triggered those around me to do the same. Within seconds we were indiscriminately turning and hugging those around us. We could feel her loving presence floating in the rain-soaked air.

No one around me knew what the minister’s phrase meant—no one except the woman laying in artificial repose in the closed mahogany casket and me.

“La Tremana” was a phrase she and I coined to describe a fantastical and imaginary place. Perhaps somewhere we would go one day if life and troublesome timing would let down its guard long enough.

As the years passed, we added details and layers to what it might be like. The coffee shop down the corner, the cigar-smoking man who would politely tip his hat at both of us but never utter a word, and the exchange of stupid jokes, ones which would make most people cringe. If we met someone interesting, we would add the person to our mental catalog of people who might join us in our other world.

We loved each other when we were young. As young people often do, we fumbled and failed to appreciate each other. Our love always remained as a backdrop, even as we married other people, had children and enjoyed the little things that make life feel like a real one. For several years, we wrote letters. Ones detailing our lives. And then technology stepped in, and we would sometimes trade messages over instant messenger or email. We never graduated to text messages or phone calls, silently acknowledging that those might be too much. Or perhaps too emotionally dangerous for us to handle.

After my wife died, we wrote to one another more urgently and frequently. I feared she would go silent if I told her I wanted to meet. This thought seems trivial and stupid to me now.

The day I conquered my fear and wrote her, asking her if she’d like to meet, still haunts me. I told her I wanted to find a “La Tremana” for us to visit. I checked my email six of seven times that morning, waiting for a reply. I answered my phone late in the afternoon when I saw an unknown number calling. It had to be Rebecca.

Instead, a younger voice spoke.

“Dan, this is Rebecca’s niece Jane. I know you and Rebecca were close in a way most people wouldn’t understand.” A chill went up my spine as she spoke. The past tense echoed in my head. “There’s no easy way to say it, so I’ll just blurt it out. Rebecca died yesterday. I’m so sorry.”

I sat in silence for several moments. My vision dimmed, and I felt nauseous.

Because that’s what people do, I asked, “How did she die, Jane?”

“She was rock-climbing a rugged cliff. A rock broke away above her and crushed her as she stood on a narrow ledge, looking at the scenery. She fell over a hundred feet and never knew it. She died instantly. Her friend Susan was a foot away from her when it happened. Susan is beyond inconsolable. But we both like to think Rebecca didn’t know what happened. And that she was happy and seeing beauty when it was her time.” Jane’s voice broke as she finished the last sentence.

“I loved her, Jane,” I whispered. I told Jane the history between us, all of it.

“That’s beautiful and tragic, Dan! She would have said yes to you, you know. In a heartbeat.”

Before hanging up, Jane told me the funeral arrangements. Without hesitation, I told her I’d drive the couple of hundred miles to be there.

The pastor waited several moments as we collected our sobs and wiped at our tears. We were at the service for our own reasons but bonded by Rebecca and her life.

“Many of you know that Rebecca performed the marriage for my wife Lilian and me. She’s the one who told me to ‘go for it’ with a smile on her face. And I did. Rebecca wrote something a little over a year ago that her nieces asked me to share. I think you will find comfort and peace hearing them. In place of a sermon, I’d prefer to read her words, which better express life’s meaning.”

La Tremana

though it exists in a place we can’t reach by walking
it is as real as anything tangible
love isn’t touchable, but it is an abiding comfort and joy
laughter isn’t felt by one’s fingers, nor is longing
they feed our souls and give us hope and purpose

even as my life filled with obstacles and heartache
there were always friends, always love, and always laughter

though I walked the earth with everyone
a part of me permanently resided in La Tremana
it is the ideal of one’s life
created to suit you, filled with things you desire

you don’t need to travel to arrive
close your eyes and imagine your best life

go find it
and waste no time doing so
With love, R.

After the service, I hugged all of Rebecca’s friends and family. Slowly, they made their way to their cars, stopping for impromptu whispered talks with other gatherers. The rain had lessened. Most ignored it. It was the least they could do. I stood near one of the large oak trees, watching them. As Jane made her final goodbyes, she turned and looked back at me. I waved, then nodded. She smiled and touched her heart with her right hand, a mannerism Rebecca once loved.

After a few minutes of standing under the tree and being lost in the past, I walked toward my car.

And perhaps, to my own La Tremana.

Humor, Poetry And Prose, Romance, Story, Writing

Clowning Around For Life (A Story)

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Against the serpentine and changing ocean shoreline, Bret curled his toes into the cool, textured sand. The sun disappeared over an hour ago, yet he still stood there, watching the lights of the beachside hotel and the occasional silhouette of a person moving in front of the lights. Elizabeth told him she’d be back in a few minutes so that they could take a walk along the shoreline.

He knew she was terrible with directions and often quickly lost her way. The hotel wasn’t THAT big, though. And it wasn’t THAT far away from the beach. As he turned and began walking towards the hotel, he could hear her voice calling.

Her voice was always a little higher than most. The modulation of the waves made her voice faintly waft toward him. He shook his head, wondering what mayhem her internal GPS had caused. He stopped and listened for her next shout. He heard her again when he walked around the building and the service area. A large block wall separated the parking lot. He laughed. Somehow, she had exited the hotel from the service exit and trapped herself between the walls.

“Hold on a second, Elizabeth!” he half-shouted.

“Bret? Get me out of here!” she shouted back, her voice going up another half-octave.

“Go back the way you came,” he offered. “I can’t see the opening. And quit laughing.” He laughed even harder.

“That’s what she said!” she added.

From the other side of the wall, she squealed with delight. “Heads up!”

Before he knew what was happening, a bucket flew over the wall.
Bret laughed again and shook his head.

“Sweetie, why did you just throw me a bucket?”

“Duh!” she replied incredulously. “So you can stand on it and climb over the wall to come get me, dumbass.”

Bret laughed hard. “Umm, you could have used the bucket to climb over the wall yourself, so who’s the dumbass now?”

“Damnit!” She yelled while giggling.

Bret grabbed the bucket and threw it over without any warning. He turned and walked fast around the corner, turning to gain access to the barrier. When Bret rounded the corner, Elizabeth was up against the high brick wall, turned sideways, reaching to get her fingers across the upper edge. He carefully walked up behind her and goosed on the back of her upper right thigh.

One leg kicked backward, pushing the bucket away while her knee jerked forward, hitting Bret in the nose and knocking him to the ground. Her crotch landed directly above his broken, bloody nose. He still managed to laugh and smile and say, “Nice landing!” which made her howl with laughter at the absurdity of the situation.

As Bret stood up, the blood ran down his chin. “Let’s go to the ocean,” he said and laughed.

Elizabeth knew he wasn’t joking, so they walked hand-in-hand around the wall and back toward the waves. Bret’s other hand gripped each side of his painful, oozing nose. They didn’t stop at the shoreline. They continued to step out into the gentle waves until the water was at their knees. Bret leaned over and washed his face as best as he could. They both could only imagine what someone watching might think. Neither cared. That was one of their superpowers. Bret stood up and circled his arm around her waist, pulling her close. They’d go back inside in a few minutes to see about Bret’s nose.

When they woke up the following day, Bret’s nose was very swollen, and he had two black eyes. Elizabeth took one look at him and began laughing uncontrollably.

“That bad, huh?” Bret asked.

“I’m sorry to be laughing so hard! I know that has to hurt! I was just thinking about all the stories we’ll be able to make up to tell people why you have black eyes in our wedding pictures!!!” Tears were running down her face because she was laughing so hard.

“We could have someone be a stand-in for the pictures!” Bret replied. “Is that hot guy from your favorite show available?” He laughed.

“No, I already called his agent. You’re stuck! Besides, you look kind of hot with those black eyes. Bad boy, even. It could be a knee-jerk reaction for me to say so, though,” she added wryly.

“Oh, I’ll give you a knee-jerk reaction, all right,” Bret replied as he rolled over on Elizabeth and gave her a quick kiss, mumbling, “a wee-nee jerk reaction!”

Elizabeth laughed. The weenie joke was one of her favorites, even though it was so stupid and old. It made her laugh every time they used it.

That evening during their beachside wedding ceremony, Elizabeth kept giggling. Bret thought she was tickled at the two witnesses he found that agreed to be there for their wedding. Witnesses that she did not even see before the ceremony. One dressed in an inflatable T-Rex costume, and the other was a clown. He wouldn’t put it past her to use a fake marriage officiant, either. The pastor laughed when Bret leaned in and whispered, “This is a legal marriage, isn’t it?” The clergy replied, “Lord help you if it isn’t.”

Elizabeth giggled out her vows and “I do.”

Bret knew the clown and dinosaur were funny, but not THAT funny. She had tears streaming down her eyes from holding back laughter.

After their first kiss as husband and wife, Elizabeth let out a massive howl of laughter and bent over at her waist to catch her breath. Bret had never seen her laugh that hard.

“Do I have a big booger on the end of my nose or something??” asked Bret.

Elizabeth waved her hands and shook her head no. She was still laughing too hard to speak. Finally, she pointed down.

Bret looked at the bottom of her dress.

She slowly raised it to reveal that she was wearing a ginormous pair of clown shoes and rainbow stockings under her elegant, white dress.

She had also hidden two clown noses in her bouquet for a few pictures after the ceremony.

“Something else that kept getting me tickled was that I noticed how the colors of the sunset matched the colors of your black eyes!!!!” as she roared with laughter again.

During their wedding dinner that night, which was Pizza Hut pizza-of course!-they hatched a plan.

They would send out their wedding picture as their Christmas card this year. Each card would have a different story explaining why Bret had black eyes and a swollen nose in the picture.

When December came around, their stories ranged from a seagull attack, that he wanted his eye shadow to match the colors of the sunset, and “This is what happens to Bret when he tries to use his hemorrhoid cream as a moisturizer.”

I think these two are going to be just fine.
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