I won't get hooked on your question mark.
I've seen your troubles,
I've danced your number.
Now please, crawl back to your wicked slumber.
The odds are as good as the goods are odd
and I am one who's had more than enough.
Just because you decide to be human for an hour
doesn't mean a thing to me.
I'd rather be incomplete
or never know
than get caught up
in your undertow.
Step away.
Leave me alone.
Please.
We think too much
or more than enough
to fill the empty spaces.
I won't get hooked on your question mark.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Perpetual Change - YES
(Anderson/Squire)
I see the cold mist in the night
And watch the hills roll out of sight.
I watch in ev'ry single way,
Inside out, outside in, ev'ry day.
The sun can warm the coldest dawn
And move the movement on the lawn.
I learn in ev'ry single day,
Inside out, outside in, ev'ry way.
And there you are,
Making it up but you're sure that it is a star,
And boy you'll see
It's an illusion shining down in front of me,
And then you'll say
Even in time we shall control the day,
When what you'll see
Deep inside the day's controlling you and me.
And one peculiar point I see,
As one of many ones of me.
As truth is gathered, I rearrange,
Inside out, outside in, inside out, outside in,
Perpetual change.
And there you are,
Saying we have the moon, so now the stars,
When all you see
Is near disaster gazing down on you and me,
And there you're standing,
Saying we have the whole world in our hands,
When all you'll see,
Deep inside the world's controlling you and me.
You'll see perpetual change.
You'll see perpetual change.
And there you are,
Making it up but you're sure that it is a star,
And boy you'll see
It's an illusion shining down in front of me,
And then you'll say
Even in time we shall control the day,
When what you'll see
Deep inside the day's controlling you and me.
As mist and sun are both the same,
We look on as pawns of their game.
They move to testify the day,
Inside out, outside in, inside out, outside in,
All of the way.
Ah, Ah.
I see the cold mist in the night
And watch the hills roll out of sight.
I watch in ev'ry single way,
Inside out, outside in, ev'ry day.
The sun can warm the coldest dawn
And move the movement on the lawn.
I learn in ev'ry single day,
Inside out, outside in, ev'ry way.
And there you are,
Making it up but you're sure that it is a star,
And boy you'll see
It's an illusion shining down in front of me,
And then you'll say
Even in time we shall control the day,
When what you'll see
Deep inside the day's controlling you and me.
And one peculiar point I see,
As one of many ones of me.
As truth is gathered, I rearrange,
Inside out, outside in, inside out, outside in,
Perpetual change.
And there you are,
Saying we have the moon, so now the stars,
When all you see
Is near disaster gazing down on you and me,
And there you're standing,
Saying we have the whole world in our hands,
When all you'll see,
Deep inside the world's controlling you and me.
You'll see perpetual change.
You'll see perpetual change.
And there you are,
Making it up but you're sure that it is a star,
And boy you'll see
It's an illusion shining down in front of me,
And then you'll say
Even in time we shall control the day,
When what you'll see
Deep inside the day's controlling you and me.
As mist and sun are both the same,
We look on as pawns of their game.
They move to testify the day,
Inside out, outside in, inside out, outside in,
All of the way.
Ah, Ah.
Sunday, May 6, 2007
Ladies and gentlemen of the class of 2007:
Ladies and gentlemen of the class of '97:
Wear sunscreen.
If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now.
Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've faded. But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine.
Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday.
Do one thing every day that scares you.
Sing.
Don't be reckless with other people's hearts. Don't put up with people who are reckless with yours.
Floss.
Don't waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind. The race is long and, in the end, it's only with yourself.
Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.
Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old bank statements.
Stretch.
Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don't.
Get plenty of calcium. Be kind to your knees. You'll miss them when they're gone.
Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else's.
Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of it or of what other people think of it. It's the greatest instrument you'll ever own.
Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.
Read the directions, even if you don't follow them.
Do not read beauty magazines. They will only make you feel ugly.
Get to know your parents. You never know when they'll be gone for good. Be nice to your siblings. They're your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.
Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.
Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft. Travel.
Accept certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise. Politicians will philander. You, too, will get old. And when you do, you'll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble, and children respected their elders.
Respect your elders.
Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund. Maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know when either one might run out.
Don't mess too much with your hair or by the time you're 40 it will look 85.
Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth.
But trust me on the sunscreen.
-Lyrics to "Everybody is free to wear sunscreen"
by Baz Luhrman
Wear sunscreen.
If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now.
Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've faded. But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine.
Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday.
Do one thing every day that scares you.
Sing.
Don't be reckless with other people's hearts. Don't put up with people who are reckless with yours.
Floss.
Don't waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind. The race is long and, in the end, it's only with yourself.
Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.
Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old bank statements.
Stretch.
Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don't.
Get plenty of calcium. Be kind to your knees. You'll miss them when they're gone.
Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else's.
Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of it or of what other people think of it. It's the greatest instrument you'll ever own.
Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.
Read the directions, even if you don't follow them.
Do not read beauty magazines. They will only make you feel ugly.
Get to know your parents. You never know when they'll be gone for good. Be nice to your siblings. They're your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.
Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.
Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft. Travel.
Accept certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise. Politicians will philander. You, too, will get old. And when you do, you'll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble, and children respected their elders.
Respect your elders.
Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund. Maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know when either one might run out.
Don't mess too much with your hair or by the time you're 40 it will look 85.
Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth.
But trust me on the sunscreen.
-Lyrics to "Everybody is free to wear sunscreen"
by Baz Luhrman
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
"The Look"
By Sara Teasdale
STEPHON kissed me in the spring,
Robin in the fall,
But Colin only looked at me
And never kissed at all.
Stephon's kiss was lost in jest,
Robin's lost in play,
But the kiss in Colin's eyes
Haunts me night and day.
STEPHON kissed me in the spring,
Robin in the fall,
But Colin only looked at me
And never kissed at all.
Stephon's kiss was lost in jest,
Robin's lost in play,
But the kiss in Colin's eyes
Haunts me night and day.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Three Things: A creative writing exercise
Made up meetings: Incorporating; Meeting, Ladies Room, Shoes & Cosmetics
How we met: Part 1.
The first thing I said to her when I met her was, “Who the hell taught you how to paint on your eyebrows?”
We were in the bathroom of some rock club. She was dressed to kill and I had had a few too many so I was feeling brave and brash.
I could not help but notice her incredible shoes when she walked through the door and as I followed her outfit from the feet up I was equally impressed, but I stopped dead when I got to her eyebrows.
She had clearly made the mistake that so many women make. She had over plucked and then turned them down with make up a little too soon. This gave her an extra wide and really unusual gap that made her look like she may be a little handicapped or something. They were uneven and angry black arches that seemed so very out of place. It was truly sad because they were framing such a lovely set of eyes.
“Excuse me?” she asked in a put off tone
“Yeah, I know, I can be a little too honest sometimes, sorry, but I promise you will come to appreciate this about me, or you will just decide to hate me right now and we will never speak again.” I answered playfully.
She took a long look at herself in the mirror, I saw a flash of insecurity cross her face and then it switched right back to righteous indignation. “Who are you anyway? Do you have a problem with me?”
“No,” I answered,” I actually think you look fabulous; it’s those eyebrows that I have a problem with! You know, I could fix them for you really quickly if you would like. I happened to have some make up in my purse right now!”
“I don’t know,” she said, “What if you mess them up?”
“Trust me, there is no way I can make them look any worst!” I answered and grabbed her hand and pulled her over to me near the mirror.
I removed what I could of her make up with some tissues I had in my purse and pulled out my brow kit that I always carry with me in my overstuffed bag of goodies. A few minutes, some powder and pencils later she was transformed from mildly retarded to drop dead gorgeous!
“Viola!” I said as I spun her around to look at herself in the mirror, “What do you think?”
“Oh my God, I love it!” she squealed, “How did you do that? You have to show me!”
“I just might be convinced to show you later if you buy me a drink right now.” I said
“But of course!” She smiled and we walked out of the bathroom arm in arm.
How we met: Part 2.
She was sitting at the only empty table left, the one that was closest to the door so every time someone walked in or out an ice cold breeze would make her pull her wrap tighter.
“Well, I know why this table was empty.” She thought to herself.
Her feet were sore from the three inch heels she had been wearing all night. She had decided that it probably wasn’t the best idea to break in a new pair of shoes on a night like this where she would be on her feet the whole time. Too bad she decided that after being at the party for about twenty minutes.
She had an urge to take her shoes off, but she was afraid her feet would be so swollen she would not be able to get them back on. Freezing seemed to be the lesser of two evils, so there she sat.
Every now and then a friend of her husband’s would stop by and say hello. Compliment her on her outfit, or tell her about what an inspiration they thought he was. (This particular night was a party to honor him and his achievements.) She, as always, was gracious and sweet and just as coy as she was supposed to be.
She scanned the room for a familiar face from her camp. One of the few people she knew on her own merits. No such luck on this night.
She pulled out her digital camera and looked for something to take a photo of. She landed on her sore feet wearing the fabulous shoes.
She started snapping photos, posing her feet at different angles trying to get the one that showed off her great shoes and made her ankles look the thinnest.
She was making up captions for the photos in her head. Things like, “This is how much pain $250 will buy you.” when she was interrupted by a voice.
“Well, you look like you’re having a good time!” a male voice said from the other side of her table.
“Oh, um, yeah..” she stammered as she looked up to see who belonged to the voice, “I was, um, I didn’t know what to take pictures of and um… these shoes hurt really bad... Hey! I know you!”
“You do?” the man look surprised. You could tell he was quickly flipping through his mental rolodex trying to place her face.
“Yes, I do.” She smiled feeling a little more relaxed now that she had taken back control of the conversation, “We actually work together!” she laughed
“We do!” he exclaimed peering at her a little bit closer, “Oh, you are right, I guess we do.” He said unconvincingly.
“Yeah, I work on the fourth floor in accounting and you work on the first floor in management. It’s all right, I’ve only been there four years. I hear that you don’t even get to meet management until you have been there for five!” She joked, immediately feeling stupid for making such a dumb joke.
Much to her relief he smiled in response looking genuinely amused, “Of course!” he responded this time sounding more convincing, “I’m sorry, I totally know you! You just look so, um, well… dressed up!” he said sounding relieved he found the right non-insulting word.
“Yeah,” she said with a smirk and stood up to reach across the table and shake his hand, “That is called hair and make-up! It was nice finally meeting you.” She shook his hand, “Have a lovely rest of your evening.”
“You too.” He shook back and smiled, “It was nice to finally meet you.”
With that she walked off towards the ladies room trying her hardest not to limp.
How we met: Part 1.
The first thing I said to her when I met her was, “Who the hell taught you how to paint on your eyebrows?”
We were in the bathroom of some rock club. She was dressed to kill and I had had a few too many so I was feeling brave and brash.
I could not help but notice her incredible shoes when she walked through the door and as I followed her outfit from the feet up I was equally impressed, but I stopped dead when I got to her eyebrows.
She had clearly made the mistake that so many women make. She had over plucked and then turned them down with make up a little too soon. This gave her an extra wide and really unusual gap that made her look like she may be a little handicapped or something. They were uneven and angry black arches that seemed so very out of place. It was truly sad because they were framing such a lovely set of eyes.
“Excuse me?” she asked in a put off tone
“Yeah, I know, I can be a little too honest sometimes, sorry, but I promise you will come to appreciate this about me, or you will just decide to hate me right now and we will never speak again.” I answered playfully.
She took a long look at herself in the mirror, I saw a flash of insecurity cross her face and then it switched right back to righteous indignation. “Who are you anyway? Do you have a problem with me?”
“No,” I answered,” I actually think you look fabulous; it’s those eyebrows that I have a problem with! You know, I could fix them for you really quickly if you would like. I happened to have some make up in my purse right now!”
“I don’t know,” she said, “What if you mess them up?”
“Trust me, there is no way I can make them look any worst!” I answered and grabbed her hand and pulled her over to me near the mirror.
I removed what I could of her make up with some tissues I had in my purse and pulled out my brow kit that I always carry with me in my overstuffed bag of goodies. A few minutes, some powder and pencils later she was transformed from mildly retarded to drop dead gorgeous!
“Viola!” I said as I spun her around to look at herself in the mirror, “What do you think?”
“Oh my God, I love it!” she squealed, “How did you do that? You have to show me!”
“I just might be convinced to show you later if you buy me a drink right now.” I said
“But of course!” She smiled and we walked out of the bathroom arm in arm.
How we met: Part 2.
She was sitting at the only empty table left, the one that was closest to the door so every time someone walked in or out an ice cold breeze would make her pull her wrap tighter.
“Well, I know why this table was empty.” She thought to herself.
Her feet were sore from the three inch heels she had been wearing all night. She had decided that it probably wasn’t the best idea to break in a new pair of shoes on a night like this where she would be on her feet the whole time. Too bad she decided that after being at the party for about twenty minutes.
She had an urge to take her shoes off, but she was afraid her feet would be so swollen she would not be able to get them back on. Freezing seemed to be the lesser of two evils, so there she sat.
Every now and then a friend of her husband’s would stop by and say hello. Compliment her on her outfit, or tell her about what an inspiration they thought he was. (This particular night was a party to honor him and his achievements.) She, as always, was gracious and sweet and just as coy as she was supposed to be.
She scanned the room for a familiar face from her camp. One of the few people she knew on her own merits. No such luck on this night.
She pulled out her digital camera and looked for something to take a photo of. She landed on her sore feet wearing the fabulous shoes.
She started snapping photos, posing her feet at different angles trying to get the one that showed off her great shoes and made her ankles look the thinnest.
She was making up captions for the photos in her head. Things like, “This is how much pain $250 will buy you.” when she was interrupted by a voice.
“Well, you look like you’re having a good time!” a male voice said from the other side of her table.
“Oh, um, yeah..” she stammered as she looked up to see who belonged to the voice, “I was, um, I didn’t know what to take pictures of and um… these shoes hurt really bad... Hey! I know you!”
“You do?” the man look surprised. You could tell he was quickly flipping through his mental rolodex trying to place her face.
“Yes, I do.” She smiled feeling a little more relaxed now that she had taken back control of the conversation, “We actually work together!” she laughed
“We do!” he exclaimed peering at her a little bit closer, “Oh, you are right, I guess we do.” He said unconvincingly.
“Yeah, I work on the fourth floor in accounting and you work on the first floor in management. It’s all right, I’ve only been there four years. I hear that you don’t even get to meet management until you have been there for five!” She joked, immediately feeling stupid for making such a dumb joke.
Much to her relief he smiled in response looking genuinely amused, “Of course!” he responded this time sounding more convincing, “I’m sorry, I totally know you! You just look so, um, well… dressed up!” he said sounding relieved he found the right non-insulting word.
“Yeah,” she said with a smirk and stood up to reach across the table and shake his hand, “That is called hair and make-up! It was nice finally meeting you.” She shook his hand, “Have a lovely rest of your evening.”
“You too.” He shook back and smiled, “It was nice to finally meet you.”
With that she walked off towards the ladies room trying her hardest not to limp.
Sunday, April 8, 2007
1993 - Again
Because I love you, I need to let you go.
There is so much you can't understand today
I hope tomorrow brings you clarity, friend.
You must be blind for now
to appreciate what is left when his storm passes.
-You still have so much to learn.-
When your chance to start over comes,
hopefully, this time, there will be more than lessons left for you to carry forward.
I hope you can stop the cycle
before you lose everything
trying to hold on to something
you never needed
again.
There is so much you can't understand today
I hope tomorrow brings you clarity, friend.
You must be blind for now
to appreciate what is left when his storm passes.
-You still have so much to learn.-
When your chance to start over comes,
hopefully, this time, there will be more than lessons left for you to carry forward.
I hope you can stop the cycle
before you lose everything
trying to hold on to something
you never needed
again.
Friday, March 16, 2007
it is at moments after i have dreamed
By: ee cummings
it is at moments after i have dreamed
of the rare entertainment of your eyes,
when (being fool to fancy) i have deemed
with your peculiar mouth my heart made wise;
at moments when the glassy darkness holds
the genuine apparition of your smile
(it was through tears always)and silence moulds
such strangeness as was mine a little while;
moments when my once more illustrious arms
are filled with fascination, when my breast
wears the intolerant brightness of your charms:
one pierced moment whiter than the rest
-turning from the tremendous lie of sleep
i watch the roses of the day grow deep.
it is at moments after i have dreamed
of the rare entertainment of your eyes,
when (being fool to fancy) i have deemed
with your peculiar mouth my heart made wise;
at moments when the glassy darkness holds
the genuine apparition of your smile
(it was through tears always)and silence moulds
such strangeness as was mine a little while;
moments when my once more illustrious arms
are filled with fascination, when my breast
wears the intolerant brightness of your charms:
one pierced moment whiter than the rest
-turning from the tremendous lie of sleep
i watch the roses of the day grow deep.
Thursday, March 1, 2007
Mad Girl's Love Song
By Sylvia Plath
"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"
"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"
Wednesday, February 7, 2007
It is time to take a moment to remember.
I remember his laugh, how he always smiled. He was one of those people who could lighten the mood in any room.
I remember how he gave the best long hugs. He would always squeeze me extra hard. His hair always smelled really good. He had long curls that I like to wrap around my fingers like little springs. I would wind it around my finger when we would talk, wrap it and unwrap it. Perfect little spirals.
He loved music. He was one of the most talented bass players I have ever met.
He came to every show I ever played and stood right in front of me. He would make faces and make me laugh. Even on the nights he had to work, he still would steal away long enough to come see me if I had a show. He would run in long enough for me to see him and then he would wave and whisk himself away as quickly as he had arrived.
He loved Marvin the Martian.
He was wearing a Mr. Bubbles shirt the last time I saw him.
I hugged him extra long that night. I didn’t want to let him go.
I drove away, and a few minutes later turned around again and went looking for him. I was not sure why. I went into the empty club and asked the guy sweeping up if he had seen him. The guy looked confused and told me they had all left a while ago. When he told me that, it felt like a punch in the gut.
I stood there in the empty band room where we had just played. I looked around at all of the paper and remnants of the night all over the sticky floor.
I could not figure out what I was doing there, something else was driving me, but I didn’t know what. All I knew was that I needed to see him.
I shook my weird feeling off the best I could and headed home.
I was going to see him the next evening at a party. There was no reason to be acting like I was not going to see him again.
That night I thought about him on the drive home. I relived every moment we had ever spent together in my head. I remember asking myself why I was suddenly so obsessed with the subject, but I really could not think about anything else.
The next day he called me early to confirm that I was going to the party. I told him I was getting a sitter and I was going to be there for sure.
About an hour before I was supposed to leave, I stood up and I crumpled to the floor. It felt like someone had taken a knife and started twisting in my back. I literally could not move. It hurt too much. The only thing I could do was lay on the floor, flat on my back. I called him and told him I wasn’t going to make it. He was bummed, but he understood. He said he would call me the next day and tell me about all of the fun I missed.
-------------------------------------------
My phone rang again at 6AM the next morning. It was my friend Jamie. She said there had been an accident. I asked her what hospital I needed to go visit them at. She said I didn’t understand. She said he was gone, they were all gone they didn’t live through the night, none of them. I told her she was lying and I hung up. I sat there for a long time trying to absorb what just happened.
I didn’t really believe it until I was standing by his casket wrapping his hair around my finger again. I stood there winding it up and unwinding it, waiting for him to open his eyes, or to look like him, or to look real at all.
Eventually the funeral director came up and gently took my arm and asked me if he could help me to my seat.
I kissed the cold marble that was now his forehead and whispered “Goodnight.”
For John David
I remember how he gave the best long hugs. He would always squeeze me extra hard. His hair always smelled really good. He had long curls that I like to wrap around my fingers like little springs. I would wind it around my finger when we would talk, wrap it and unwrap it. Perfect little spirals.
He loved music. He was one of the most talented bass players I have ever met.
He came to every show I ever played and stood right in front of me. He would make faces and make me laugh. Even on the nights he had to work, he still would steal away long enough to come see me if I had a show. He would run in long enough for me to see him and then he would wave and whisk himself away as quickly as he had arrived.
He loved Marvin the Martian.
He was wearing a Mr. Bubbles shirt the last time I saw him.
I hugged him extra long that night. I didn’t want to let him go.
I drove away, and a few minutes later turned around again and went looking for him. I was not sure why. I went into the empty club and asked the guy sweeping up if he had seen him. The guy looked confused and told me they had all left a while ago. When he told me that, it felt like a punch in the gut.
I stood there in the empty band room where we had just played. I looked around at all of the paper and remnants of the night all over the sticky floor.
I could not figure out what I was doing there, something else was driving me, but I didn’t know what. All I knew was that I needed to see him.
I shook my weird feeling off the best I could and headed home.
I was going to see him the next evening at a party. There was no reason to be acting like I was not going to see him again.
That night I thought about him on the drive home. I relived every moment we had ever spent together in my head. I remember asking myself why I was suddenly so obsessed with the subject, but I really could not think about anything else.
The next day he called me early to confirm that I was going to the party. I told him I was getting a sitter and I was going to be there for sure.
About an hour before I was supposed to leave, I stood up and I crumpled to the floor. It felt like someone had taken a knife and started twisting in my back. I literally could not move. It hurt too much. The only thing I could do was lay on the floor, flat on my back. I called him and told him I wasn’t going to make it. He was bummed, but he understood. He said he would call me the next day and tell me about all of the fun I missed.
-------------------------------------------
My phone rang again at 6AM the next morning. It was my friend Jamie. She said there had been an accident. I asked her what hospital I needed to go visit them at. She said I didn’t understand. She said he was gone, they were all gone they didn’t live through the night, none of them. I told her she was lying and I hung up. I sat there for a long time trying to absorb what just happened.
I didn’t really believe it until I was standing by his casket wrapping his hair around my finger again. I stood there winding it up and unwinding it, waiting for him to open his eyes, or to look like him, or to look real at all.
Eventually the funeral director came up and gently took my arm and asked me if he could help me to my seat.
I kissed the cold marble that was now his forehead and whispered “Goodnight.”
For John David
So We Call it Bric-a-Brac
I sip this coffee slow
Don't want to burn my tongue
I'm running on fumes again
and the day has only just begun.
My head is in your space
Thoughts tumbling down like children on a grassy hill
They get to the bottom and climb back up again
with no real place to go
and superficial stains that can be stripped away
when the time is right to get out of our play clothes
My love for you is whole and complete
On a shelf collecting dust
like so many things we cherish too much to throw away
but we really don't know where it fits into our lives
so we call it bric-a-brac
My hands are tied like the knots in my stomach
and my body is the prison that sustains my life
My eyes close and I am lost in my head
Pulling heavy drapes closed on a sunny room
they are heavy with lack of sleep
unrealized dreams
and all of the potential I see wasted every day
These unspoken truths hang in every room we are in like a modern day painting in a Victorian house
Don't want to burn my tongue
I'm running on fumes again
and the day has only just begun.
My head is in your space
Thoughts tumbling down like children on a grassy hill
They get to the bottom and climb back up again
with no real place to go
and superficial stains that can be stripped away
when the time is right to get out of our play clothes
My love for you is whole and complete
On a shelf collecting dust
like so many things we cherish too much to throw away
but we really don't know where it fits into our lives
so we call it bric-a-brac
My hands are tied like the knots in my stomach
and my body is the prison that sustains my life
My eyes close and I am lost in my head
Pulling heavy drapes closed on a sunny room
they are heavy with lack of sleep
unrealized dreams
and all of the potential I see wasted every day
These unspoken truths hang in every room we are in like a modern day painting in a Victorian house
The Cherry Blossoms always remind me of the Spring that Valerie died….
I had just moved to Washington for school, I didn’t know a whole lot of people here. I had a very small group of friends, and no family in the state. I was 23 years old, a single mother of one, a full time college student, and a struggling musician.
The amount of stress I was under was overwhelming. My life was going in fifty different directions at a time and it all depended on a very delicate balance of daycare, scheduling, and whatever juggling act I had to do to make it all work. One thing went wrong and the entire house of cards would all come tumbling down.
This one day in particular I was feeling especially overwhelmed. My daughter contracted the Chicken Pox the same week as final exams and my usual babysitter had never been exposed to Chicken Pox before so he could not watch her. I was forced to stay home with her. I called the school to plead my case to no avail.
Two of my teachers refused to let me make up the exams at a later time. I was going to a school that you would loose a grade for every day you missed no matter what the circumstances. I realized by the time the Chicken Pox were gone I would have failing grades in more than half of my classes.
I was in the doghouse with my band because I had already missed several practices and we had a big show coming up. They were already talking about finding a replacement for me.
Something had gone wrong with my financial aid so I was not sure how exactly I was going to pay rent that month or buy food.
I was wrecked emotionally and ready to give up. I was sitting on the floor in the middle of my living room, lights down, TV off, staring at the floor feeling sorry for myself.
I was thinking things like;
“How did I get here?”
“How is this my life?”
“Am I a good enough parent? Would my daughter be better off with different parents?”
“Should I quit school? Why do I even bother?”
“What is the point in all of this?”
“Wouldn’t everyone just be better off if I just gave up on living all together?”
That is when the phone rang. I’m not really sure why I picked it up. I wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone.
“Hello.” I said flatly into the receiver
“Michelle? Hey, it’s Valerie.” The voice on the other end responded.
“Hi, how are you? How have you been feeling? Is everything going ok?” I asked, my tone changing when I realized who it was.
Valerie was my friend from back home that had moved to Washington about the same time I did. She was a sweet girl. She was twenty years old, very friendly, very likable. She was one of those friends you could call at any time and she would be there for you no matter what. In the time since we moved here we had become very important to each other, we were one another’s connection to “home” and things familiar.
Valerie found out she had Cancer four months before when she went to the doctor about a pulled muscle in her leg. It turned out what she thought was a strained ligament, was actually a cancer tumor.
“Yeah, well, the doctors said that it has traveled all over my body, the Chemo doesn’t seem to be helping.” She said. I could hear her voice wavering on the other end of the line. “I have lost all of my hair. I don’t even have eyelashes anymore Michelle!”
Suddenly my problems were looking smaller and smaller.
“Don’t you worry, you are young and healthy! We will beat this Val! I swear we will!” I said trying to sound as convincing as I could, “We will find you a great wig! I am sure it is fine. There is nothing a little make up can’t hide until you get better!” I was trying to sound positive.
Silence. There was nothing for a few minutes and then I could hear her take a deep breath. She was crying.
“Come on Val, don’t cry, it really will be ok.” I said weakly
“I am so scared. I don’t want to die Michelle! I really don’t want to die.” She said, “I don’t know what to do. I just know I want to live! Help me! What should I do?”
All I could say to her was, “It is going to be all right, don’t worry.” and try to hide the fact that I was crying too.
In reality, I didn’t know if it was going to be all right. My close friend was drowning before my eyes and I could do nothing to save her. I was terrified. All I wanted was to say anything that would make it all better. I couldn’t find those words no matter how hard I searched for them.
“I am so afraid. I don’t want to die.” was her only response, “I want to live.”
A few days later Val died in her sleep. That conversation was the last time I ever spoke to her.
Since she died, any time life has overwhelmed me, and my mind goes to a place of giving up, I remember that conversation. I remember clearly Valerie’s voice saying, “I want to live.” It reminds me of how lucky I am to still be alive. No matter how bad things get, I am alive. I AM ALIVE!
In her life she gave me friendship. In her last days she taught me the value of how precious every moment we have on earth is. In her death she taught me how important it is to never take any day you have alive for granted, because she would have traded even my worst days for the Cancer that took her life.
She taught me that we as humans have a responsibility to enjoy life and make the most out of it. In her friendship Valerie taught me that life truly is a gift.
Even all of these years later I think of her all of the time. That day and that conversation and the lessons she taught me I will carry for the rest of my life. In my memories my friend who changed my whole world will forever live on.
The amount of stress I was under was overwhelming. My life was going in fifty different directions at a time and it all depended on a very delicate balance of daycare, scheduling, and whatever juggling act I had to do to make it all work. One thing went wrong and the entire house of cards would all come tumbling down.
This one day in particular I was feeling especially overwhelmed. My daughter contracted the Chicken Pox the same week as final exams and my usual babysitter had never been exposed to Chicken Pox before so he could not watch her. I was forced to stay home with her. I called the school to plead my case to no avail.
Two of my teachers refused to let me make up the exams at a later time. I was going to a school that you would loose a grade for every day you missed no matter what the circumstances. I realized by the time the Chicken Pox were gone I would have failing grades in more than half of my classes.
I was in the doghouse with my band because I had already missed several practices and we had a big show coming up. They were already talking about finding a replacement for me.
Something had gone wrong with my financial aid so I was not sure how exactly I was going to pay rent that month or buy food.
I was wrecked emotionally and ready to give up. I was sitting on the floor in the middle of my living room, lights down, TV off, staring at the floor feeling sorry for myself.
I was thinking things like;
“How did I get here?”
“How is this my life?”
“Am I a good enough parent? Would my daughter be better off with different parents?”
“Should I quit school? Why do I even bother?”
“What is the point in all of this?”
“Wouldn’t everyone just be better off if I just gave up on living all together?”
That is when the phone rang. I’m not really sure why I picked it up. I wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone.
“Hello.” I said flatly into the receiver
“Michelle? Hey, it’s Valerie.” The voice on the other end responded.
“Hi, how are you? How have you been feeling? Is everything going ok?” I asked, my tone changing when I realized who it was.
Valerie was my friend from back home that had moved to Washington about the same time I did. She was a sweet girl. She was twenty years old, very friendly, very likable. She was one of those friends you could call at any time and she would be there for you no matter what. In the time since we moved here we had become very important to each other, we were one another’s connection to “home” and things familiar.
Valerie found out she had Cancer four months before when she went to the doctor about a pulled muscle in her leg. It turned out what she thought was a strained ligament, was actually a cancer tumor.
“Yeah, well, the doctors said that it has traveled all over my body, the Chemo doesn’t seem to be helping.” She said. I could hear her voice wavering on the other end of the line. “I have lost all of my hair. I don’t even have eyelashes anymore Michelle!”
Suddenly my problems were looking smaller and smaller.
“Don’t you worry, you are young and healthy! We will beat this Val! I swear we will!” I said trying to sound as convincing as I could, “We will find you a great wig! I am sure it is fine. There is nothing a little make up can’t hide until you get better!” I was trying to sound positive.
Silence. There was nothing for a few minutes and then I could hear her take a deep breath. She was crying.
“Come on Val, don’t cry, it really will be ok.” I said weakly
“I am so scared. I don’t want to die Michelle! I really don’t want to die.” She said, “I don’t know what to do. I just know I want to live! Help me! What should I do?”
All I could say to her was, “It is going to be all right, don’t worry.” and try to hide the fact that I was crying too.
In reality, I didn’t know if it was going to be all right. My close friend was drowning before my eyes and I could do nothing to save her. I was terrified. All I wanted was to say anything that would make it all better. I couldn’t find those words no matter how hard I searched for them.
“I am so afraid. I don’t want to die.” was her only response, “I want to live.”
A few days later Val died in her sleep. That conversation was the last time I ever spoke to her.
Since she died, any time life has overwhelmed me, and my mind goes to a place of giving up, I remember that conversation. I remember clearly Valerie’s voice saying, “I want to live.” It reminds me of how lucky I am to still be alive. No matter how bad things get, I am alive. I AM ALIVE!
In her life she gave me friendship. In her last days she taught me the value of how precious every moment we have on earth is. In her death she taught me how important it is to never take any day you have alive for granted, because she would have traded even my worst days for the Cancer that took her life.
She taught me that we as humans have a responsibility to enjoy life and make the most out of it. In her friendship Valerie taught me that life truly is a gift.
Even all of these years later I think of her all of the time. That day and that conversation and the lessons she taught me I will carry for the rest of my life. In my memories my friend who changed my whole world will forever live on.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Oh, Father Time
Where were you when I was still full of adventure and careless and carefree and fun?
Where were you when I didn't know what it meant to be judged.
When lies were dismissed as nurture to protect the innocent ears
from the truths that years would inevitably reveal.
Where were you when I was still young enough to not know better
and could articulate my feelings without second guessing my each and every thought?
Before fear had his hands in my head
and your old lies lived in my bed
making me think I was not good enough.
I remember a girl who only wanted to live
and love
and die when it was time,
but then time was a lifetime away.
And now it creeps up
like a cold breath,
a snake in the grass,
like the woman that I don't know
who's trapped in the reflections of the shiny windows
on my way to a daily routine
fit for the queen of nothing.
They call it making a living
I call it losing my life.
When will I have time to have time to be happy?
Where were you when I didn't know what it meant to be judged.
When lies were dismissed as nurture to protect the innocent ears
from the truths that years would inevitably reveal.
Where were you when I was still young enough to not know better
and could articulate my feelings without second guessing my each and every thought?
Before fear had his hands in my head
and your old lies lived in my bed
making me think I was not good enough.
I remember a girl who only wanted to live
and love
and die when it was time,
but then time was a lifetime away.
And now it creeps up
like a cold breath,
a snake in the grass,
like the woman that I don't know
who's trapped in the reflections of the shiny windows
on my way to a daily routine
fit for the queen of nothing.
They call it making a living
I call it losing my life.
When will I have time to have time to be happy?
Sunday, January 7, 2007
The beginning of a Fender Love Story
I remember the first time he brought me to life. It was his sixteenth birthday. His youth made him giddy and overzealous when he first laid eyes on me.
He took me in his arms the first time. His fingers were green and inexperienced. They fumbled over me, as he tried to make me sing. It was almost painful. He would run his fingers one place, bend me, stroke me in another, but he was not getting the reaction from me that he wanted.
“Damn! Why can’t I do this?” he would exclaim in his frustration.
He would mumble to himself about how he should just break me, but then he would touch me with such care I knew his threats were idle.
He would try and try for hours, I could feel his sweat through his shirt making my back wet. Every now and then he would stop and towel me off and then start again. When the day was over, and only when exhaustion finally overcame him, he lay me down and covered me in velvet before he went to sleep.
The next day I woke to all of his friends. He was proudly showing me to them, displaying me with care. Some of them would ask if they could touch me, he would say they could only hold me for a second, but to be careful. He did not dare try to make me sing in front of them yet, he needed more practice, but I knew that it would happen some day. I could feel how proud he was of me, how much he really loved me.
He spent the next year loving me, touching me, as often as possible. He took such care of me, he made sure I was always beautiful, and I was always tucked in safely at night. He would touch me every chance he got. Before school, after school, all weekend long, sometimes he would wake me up in the middle of the night, his room would be filled with stale pungent smoke and his eyes would be red and glassy. Those times he would touch me softly, his fingers would be less skilled than usual, but he didn’t seem to be as frustrated. He would just revel in the feeling of stroking me and holding me.
Eventually he learned to make me sing, and then howl, and then whale, and then scream! Sometimes he would be so rough with me I thought I would break under his touch. He would squeeze my neck so hard I thought it would snap. This mostly happened when he would leave our world for a while, those times he went out of sight. He would come to me with a wet face from tears and his hands would be shaking. He would tell me I was all he had and how we were going to leave them some day. He would tell me how I was the only one who would ever really understand him. He would just hold me and cry.
One afternoon he came to me and said we were leaving. He got me dressed and held me in his arms, we left the only place I had ever known as home, we went out into a world far larger than I had ever imagined was beyond the door that would take him away from me and bring him back to me every day. He brought me to a place that was full of smoke and people who talked loudly about things I didn’t understand. He met up with some friends that I had met before in our room.
“Finally bringing her out huh?” the pimply faced boy with the stringy hair asked.
“Yup.” He said, “ I think it is time everyone see what she is really made of.”
I didn’t want to disappoint him. He had worked so hard to learn how to love me. The growth process was hard. It was painful for both of us, but we did it, we persevered. I wanted to sing for him, to make him love me and be proud of me.
He displayed me proudly and I sang for him, we sang together. He was nervous; I could feel his hands tremble. He was fumbling a bit, but that didn’t matter. I was the only one close enough to be able to tell. To me it was perfect; my place in his world was solid. I knew he would love me forever.
When it was over and they all smiled and cheered. They surrounded us and admired us. Some of them told him how beautiful I was, how lucky he was to have me. He would smile and nod. Some of them even asked if they could take me home. He would only laugh at the ridiculousness of the statement. “I am his.” I would think, I would never sing for you! I was never worried. I knew I was the most important thing in his life, he told me as much many times. I am the only one who really understands him!
After that he took me out more and more. We went all over the place; sometimes we went to bars, sometimes to coffee houses, sometimes parks. My world got bigger all of the time. I loved how it felt when people would admire me, how he took such pride in me. I belonged to him. It was like I was a part of him.
A few more years went by. He was growing into a strong and handsome man. We were singing together almost every day, fast and powerful. His hands would no longer shake. When he would touch me it was skillful and adept. I loved how he made me scream such a beautiful melodic scream. His rhythm was hard and fast, his sweat was that of exhaustion and pleasure, no longer of nerves of tension. And they loved us, how they loved us!
One night he slowed down. I thought maybe he was trying something different. His touch was shaky and nervous again, but his song was slow and beautiful. The song we sang came from a place of magic; it had an intensity I had never felt with him before. He was anxious like he was when we first touched, but he was filled with a feeling that was spilling over into me. My song was full and soft and brought the room to silence until all you could hear was he and I.
When it was over, the thunder of claps and cheers was louder than it had ever been before. I knew he was proud, we had reached a new level, but then something happened. He let me go. Just left me there on the floor. He took no care in what happened to me, just walked away from me to her. She was the girl sitting in the front with the long brown curls. The one who kept watching him, like so many girls had before, but he would always ignore them. She was different; he walked away from me, and went to her! That had never happened before! Who was this? Can she sing like me? Does she think she could take my place? Could she?
I watched him nervously kick the floor as he talked to her. He didn’t once even turn to check if I was ok. He had his hands in his pockets so she would not see how they were shaking.
He took me in his arms the first time. His fingers were green and inexperienced. They fumbled over me, as he tried to make me sing. It was almost painful. He would run his fingers one place, bend me, stroke me in another, but he was not getting the reaction from me that he wanted.
“Damn! Why can’t I do this?” he would exclaim in his frustration.
He would mumble to himself about how he should just break me, but then he would touch me with such care I knew his threats were idle.
He would try and try for hours, I could feel his sweat through his shirt making my back wet. Every now and then he would stop and towel me off and then start again. When the day was over, and only when exhaustion finally overcame him, he lay me down and covered me in velvet before he went to sleep.
The next day I woke to all of his friends. He was proudly showing me to them, displaying me with care. Some of them would ask if they could touch me, he would say they could only hold me for a second, but to be careful. He did not dare try to make me sing in front of them yet, he needed more practice, but I knew that it would happen some day. I could feel how proud he was of me, how much he really loved me.
He spent the next year loving me, touching me, as often as possible. He took such care of me, he made sure I was always beautiful, and I was always tucked in safely at night. He would touch me every chance he got. Before school, after school, all weekend long, sometimes he would wake me up in the middle of the night, his room would be filled with stale pungent smoke and his eyes would be red and glassy. Those times he would touch me softly, his fingers would be less skilled than usual, but he didn’t seem to be as frustrated. He would just revel in the feeling of stroking me and holding me.
Eventually he learned to make me sing, and then howl, and then whale, and then scream! Sometimes he would be so rough with me I thought I would break under his touch. He would squeeze my neck so hard I thought it would snap. This mostly happened when he would leave our world for a while, those times he went out of sight. He would come to me with a wet face from tears and his hands would be shaking. He would tell me I was all he had and how we were going to leave them some day. He would tell me how I was the only one who would ever really understand him. He would just hold me and cry.
One afternoon he came to me and said we were leaving. He got me dressed and held me in his arms, we left the only place I had ever known as home, we went out into a world far larger than I had ever imagined was beyond the door that would take him away from me and bring him back to me every day. He brought me to a place that was full of smoke and people who talked loudly about things I didn’t understand. He met up with some friends that I had met before in our room.
“Finally bringing her out huh?” the pimply faced boy with the stringy hair asked.
“Yup.” He said, “ I think it is time everyone see what she is really made of.”
I didn’t want to disappoint him. He had worked so hard to learn how to love me. The growth process was hard. It was painful for both of us, but we did it, we persevered. I wanted to sing for him, to make him love me and be proud of me.
He displayed me proudly and I sang for him, we sang together. He was nervous; I could feel his hands tremble. He was fumbling a bit, but that didn’t matter. I was the only one close enough to be able to tell. To me it was perfect; my place in his world was solid. I knew he would love me forever.
When it was over and they all smiled and cheered. They surrounded us and admired us. Some of them told him how beautiful I was, how lucky he was to have me. He would smile and nod. Some of them even asked if they could take me home. He would only laugh at the ridiculousness of the statement. “I am his.” I would think, I would never sing for you! I was never worried. I knew I was the most important thing in his life, he told me as much many times. I am the only one who really understands him!
After that he took me out more and more. We went all over the place; sometimes we went to bars, sometimes to coffee houses, sometimes parks. My world got bigger all of the time. I loved how it felt when people would admire me, how he took such pride in me. I belonged to him. It was like I was a part of him.
A few more years went by. He was growing into a strong and handsome man. We were singing together almost every day, fast and powerful. His hands would no longer shake. When he would touch me it was skillful and adept. I loved how he made me scream such a beautiful melodic scream. His rhythm was hard and fast, his sweat was that of exhaustion and pleasure, no longer of nerves of tension. And they loved us, how they loved us!
One night he slowed down. I thought maybe he was trying something different. His touch was shaky and nervous again, but his song was slow and beautiful. The song we sang came from a place of magic; it had an intensity I had never felt with him before. He was anxious like he was when we first touched, but he was filled with a feeling that was spilling over into me. My song was full and soft and brought the room to silence until all you could hear was he and I.
When it was over, the thunder of claps and cheers was louder than it had ever been before. I knew he was proud, we had reached a new level, but then something happened. He let me go. Just left me there on the floor. He took no care in what happened to me, just walked away from me to her. She was the girl sitting in the front with the long brown curls. The one who kept watching him, like so many girls had before, but he would always ignore them. She was different; he walked away from me, and went to her! That had never happened before! Who was this? Can she sing like me? Does she think she could take my place? Could she?
I watched him nervously kick the floor as he talked to her. He didn’t once even turn to check if I was ok. He had his hands in his pockets so she would not see how they were shaking.
Saturday, November 11, 2006
Black Swan (Lyrics)
-Thom Yorke
What will grow quickly, that you can't make straight
It's the price you gotta pay
Do yourself a favour and pack you bags
Buy a ticket and get on the train
Buy a ticket and get on the train
Cause this is fucked up, fucked up
Cause this is fucked up, fucked up
People get crushed like biscuit crumbs
And laid down in the bed you made
You have tried your best to please everyone
But it just isn't happening
No, it just isn't happening
And it's fucked up, fucked up
And this is fucked up, fucked up
This your blind spot, blind spot
It should be obvious, but it's not.
But it isn't, but it isn't
You cannot kickstart a dead horse
You just crush yourself and walk away
I don't care what the future holds
Cause I'm right here in your arms today
With your fingers you can touch me
I'm your black swan, black swan
But I made it to the top, made it to the top
This is fucked up, fucked up
You are fucked up, fucked up
This is fucked up, fucked up
Be your black swan, black swan
I'm for spare parts, broken up
Hear the song here
Friday, November 10, 2006
Simple Woman (A fairytale I wrote for my girl)
In a time not much different than now. In a place not too different than where you are. There lived a woman. She was not a woman of beauty. Not a woman of quick wit, but a woman with a kind heart. She lived a quiet, simple life. She lived in a simple home, with a simple cat. She was mostly a happy woman, but sometimes she was lonely. To comfort herself she would read great stories of love and romance. She would pretend she was the beautiful heroine. She would dream that her prince would come riding up and tell her he was going to take her away from her simple life and show her wonders she could never imagine. These dreams would get her through the darkest and loneliest days.
One day, while the simple woman sat on her porch petting her simple cat, she heard a strange noise. It sounded like a tiny voice crying for help. The simple woman followed the tiny voice. To her surprise, the voice led her to a tiny winged fairy lying in the rose patch.
"Kind madam, could you please help me?", asked the fairy, "I seem to have caught my wing on a thorn and now I cannot fly. If you do not help me I will surely perish in this August sun!"
"Of course I will help you." Replied the simple woman. Without another thought, she gently picked up the tiny fairy and carried him to her simple house. Out of her sewing basket, she found her finest silk thread and mended the fairy's broken wing.
Several days and nights passed while the tiny fairy lay in the tiny makeshift bed. Every day the woman made the fairy meals of sunflower seeds and honey. Every morning she collected dew
drops for the tiny fairy to drink from her finest thimble. Every evening she would read him great stories from her books until he was lulled to sleep.
One morning, when the simple woman returned home, after collecting dewdrops, she noticed the tiny makeshift bed was empty. The woman, worried about her tiny fairy friend, called out for him.
"Hello, where are you my friend?", she called.
"I am all around you." Replied a voice that seemed to be coming from all the corners of the room.
"I don't understand." Said the simple woman.
"My dear lady," echoed the fairy, "My wings are healed and fairies move too quickly for your human eyes to see."
"Now I understand." Said the simple woman looking around the room wondering just where her friend might be.
"I could not leave without thanking you for all of your kindness. You saved me from a sure death." Said the fairy.
At that moment, something dropped to the floor by the simple woman's feet. She reached down and picked up what looked like a smooth heart shaped seed, which fit in the palm of her hand.
"What is this?” asked the woman.
"Your kindness touched me so and renewed my faith in the human capacity for unconditional love and kindness. So, I give you my heart,” said the Fairy. "In human hands, a fairy heart can be a powerful tool. When you wear it close to your own heart it reflects to the world your true beauty, the beauty that comes from within. It can help lead you to your heart's desires."
With that, the door flew open. The simple woman knew the tiny fairy was gone. She placed the smooth fairy heart in her pocket closest to her own heart, and waited. Nothing happened.
"That is peculiar." She thought, "I don't feel any different. Oh well, the gift was kind, and it is the thought that counts. It will be my new good luck charm."
The simple woman smiled to herself and patted her front pocket.
Now that all of the excitement was over the simple woman knew it was time to get back to her normal life. While taking care of the tiny fairy, she had not been to the market in a long while and her supplies were running low. It was time to go to town.
Walking down the main street in the center of town, the woman noticed something strange was going on with the town people. Everywhere she looked the people were smiling and whispering and looking in her direction.
"I wonder why everyone is looking at me?" Thought the simple woman, "I hope my clothes are straight and I don't have dirt on the end of my nose!"
She imagined walking down the center of town with crooked clothes and a mud pie balanced on the end of her nose. This mental picture made her giggle to herself.
"My angel, your laughter is like music." Said a deep voice, interrupting her daydream.
To the simple woman's surprise it was Mr. Duboir, the most handsome and wealthiest man in town. The simple woman knew him because she cleaned his house from time to time over the years.
"Are you a vision or are you real? Dare I ask you your name and risk you disappearing, leaving me with a broken heart for the rest of my days?" asked Mr. Duboir, without taking his eyes off of the simple woman for a second.
"It is just I, the simple woman who looks after your house from time to time." She replied, quite confused by the way he was acting.
"I can't believe I have employed such a lovely creature all this time in such a menial task as cleaning my house. You should be treated as no less than a queen and you should have people cleaning your house!" announced Mr. Duboir.
"I have never thought of my job as menial. In fact I take great pride in my work. You are a handsome and wealthy man and I find your words flattering, confusing, but nonetheless flattering. When I look in your eyes, for some reason unknown to me, I can see you are a shallow unkind man. You are shrewd in business and life. You are rich because of all the people you used and walked on to get to where you are today. You would never put anyone else's needs before your own. You are selfish and ugly to me." Said the woman surprised at her own quick tongue.
"It must be the fairy heart that is allowing me to see his true self." She thought to herself.
She turned to walk away from Mr. Duboir, who was standing, stunned by her rejection. No sooner did she take a step than the next admirer, and then the next stopped her! They were all men, professing their sudden love for her. All men without beauty beneath their handsome faces, behind their telling eyes.
One man always lied and used people to get what he wanted. One man made promises he knew he would never keep. One man was violent. One man already had a wife and family at home.
The simple woman was beginning to wonder if the fairy's gift was more of a curse. She was now able to see the true nature of someone's heart just by looking in their eyes. It was beginning to make her deeply sad to know how corrupt humankind can be.
The woman then came upon the kind blind man who always sat in the summer sun, on the bench outside the market. She always liked seeing the blind man. On long summer days she would bring fresh lemonade into town and the two of them would just sit and talk for hours about all the things in life they found interesting or strange.
The woman was especially excited to talk to him today, seeing as it was definitely the most peculiar and interesting day she may have had in her life!
"Hello friend." Said the simple woman to the blind man; "You would not believe the day I have had!"
The simple woman told him the story about finding the tiny fairy with a broken wing, mending his wing, the gift of the smooth heart shaped seed the tiny fairy said was his heart, and then all the strange reactions of the townspeople.
"Because of my blindness, I cannot tell you if you look any different now than you always have," said the blind man to the simple woman, "but, I can tell you, to me, you are just as beautiful as you have always been. In fact, I think you are the most beautiful woman I have ever known. That is why I have always loved you."
Surprised, the simple woman asked, "Why have you never told me this before?"
The blind man replied, "I have known I loved you for a long time, but I never thought a woman as wonderful as you deserved a man with limitations such as myself. I did not think I could be a good enough provider for you or a family. I enjoyed our time together so much. I have always been afraid I might scare you away."
The woman looked into the misty eyes of the blind man. Something happened. She suddenly realized she was looking at possibly the most beautiful human being she had ever laid eyes upon. Her heart began swelling with love.
"You are all I have ever needed or dreamed of." Said the woman to the blind man; "To prove my love to you I will break this spell that makes me more than the simple woman I know I am."
With this oath of true love, she reached into her pocket closest to her heart and pulled out the fairy's heart. She broke the smooth heart shaped seed in two and placed half of it into the blind man's hand.
'What is this?" asked the blind man.
"It is half of the fairy's heart." Replied the simple woman.
"By giving this to me, won't the spell be broken that gives you this new physical beauty and insight on the human heart?" the blind man asked, sounding a little confused.
"I don't need a spell to know you have a kind heart, I have always known that," said the woman, "and a physical beauty that will fade in time, is no matter to you, for I am already beautiful in your eyes. And you, my love, is all that matters." With that, the simple woman leaned over and softly kissed the lips of the blind man.
Right then, both halves of the broken fairy heart flew out of their hands and reconnected in the air above their heads. It began pulsating pure light. It was so bright; the simple woman was forced to shield her eyes. She then heard the fairy's voice booming from all directions.
"You have used my gift to you wisely and it has led you to your heart's desire." He said to the simple woman, "I am so touched by your selfless act to prove your love to this man I want to give you another gift."
There was a great flash of light and then silence. Somehow the simple woman knew the fairy was gone once again. She looked at the blind man and noticed he was blinking wildly.
"Are you all right?" asked the simple woman.
"My eyes are tingling." Said the blind man.
The simple woman placed her hands on each side of the blind man's face and looked
deeply into his eyes, trying to see if she could notice anything happening.
For the blind man it was like a thousand veils, stacked one on top of another, being lifted away one at a time.
When the veils were all lifted, and his eyes adjusted, he found himself looking at the most beautiful face he had ever known. The same face he looked at, and loved, every day for the rest of his life.
Thursday, November 9, 2006
Malkamus (lyrics)
-DJL
Malkamus posts his messages to his daily online chat
While the Eels flow from the radio
The last time I saw her
She was crying
About something that mattered
then
I watch the cars go by through the window
I wonder how many of them will make it through the night
The last time I saw him
He was smiling
A broad and self-satisfied grin
I wonder if he will be smiling
When it all comes back to him?
I feel like I know what they are thinking
When they don’t look at me
Their silence screams
With insecurities
That ignorance creates.
Malkamus likes to drink his vodka to wash down his wine
She likes the messages he posts for her to wash down her life
And He just likes to pretend everything is all right
Malkamus posts his messages to his daily online chat
While the Eels flow from the radio
The last time I saw her
She was crying
About something that mattered
then
I watch the cars go by through the window
I wonder how many of them will make it through the night
The last time I saw him
He was smiling
A broad and self-satisfied grin
I wonder if he will be smiling
When it all comes back to him?
I feel like I know what they are thinking
When they don’t look at me
Their silence screams
With insecurities
That ignorance creates.
Malkamus likes to drink his vodka to wash down his wine
She likes the messages he posts for her to wash down her life
And He just likes to pretend everything is all right
Wednesday, November 8, 2006
Dear Dolly........Love Mom (2004)
The call came in shortly after lunch. All the girls in the office decided to hit the new Indian restaurant that day and take an extended lunch hour. By the time she sat in her chair she was ready to go into a deep food coma, fat and happy and not interested in work. The day had been atypically sunny for that time of year and that put everyone in better spirits.
When she answered the phone she was smiling,
“Customer Service, how may I help you?”
-------------------
“Yes, this is she.”
-------------------
“What? When did it happen?”
-------------------
She hung up the phone.
Her head was spinning. She wished she had not picked up the phone. She felt like she should cry, but she was too stunned to do much of anything. She had to say the words in her head several times before she could say them out loud and only then could she really understand what they meant.
“Your mother passed away this morning. She had a massive stroke.” she whispered to herself
It was unbelievable, just a few hours before she had been swapping ‘crazy mother’ stories with her friends at lunch. She had never been really close to her mom; in fact some would say they were strangers. She could not remember the last time she even got a call or a card on her birthday. She had no idea she was even sick if she was sick at all.
Since her mom divorced her dad, moved out of state and started working at the grocery store fifteen years ago, she never really heard from her. If they talked at all it was because she made the effort, not her mother.
“I never really felt like she wanted me”, she explained to her best friend Jenny who sat in the cube next to her, “This is so surreal, I don’t even know if she has been ill for a long time or what, it has been at least a year since I called her last. I was just so pissed at her for missing my birthday again that I decided not to be the one to call her first this time! I feel like I should be crying, but I can’t.”
“It won’t hit you until you are there” Jenny said, “That is when it will be real, right now, in your head, she still lives in another state. What time is your flight?””
“It is at 7:00 this eve, and yes, you are probably right.” She said
When she arrived in front of her mother’s little apartment complex she took a long while to get out of the cab. She sat and looked at the old brick two story building and tried to imagine her mother coming home from work in her grocery smock walking up the flight of stairs to her apartment. She realized she had never seen the inside of this place and her mother had been living there for over ten years. The lawyer said the manager would let her in, and she just had to get the place sorted out.
The rent was paid through the end of the month and she had a list of all of the donation places around town so she could drop things off. She had rented a truck company to take whatever else she wanted back with her just to be safe. She figured she could just cancel it if there was not anything to salvage.
Her mother had always worked as grocery clerks, or at quickie mart type places, so she imagined all she would have left behind were obviously second hand furniture and maybe a few unpaid bills. Even her car was at least 15 years old, purchased right after the divorce with her father’s money she was sure. Her mother didn’t have anyone in her life. Her mother had always been a loner, so her daughter was all that was left.
“Is this the right place miss?” the cabbie turned and asked with a bewildered look on his face.
“Oh, yes, thank you”, she said and reached in her purse and handed him money, “Keep the change.”
“Thank you!” he said with a big smile, “Do you want me to wait here?”
“No, that will be all for today. Thanks!” she said weakly and got out of the car.
She had tipped him almost what the fare cost, but she tended to be that way when she was feeling guilty about something. It was as if she were trying to make up for something she didn’t do that she should have. She always joked with her friends that it was her ‘Guilt Tip” This thought made her smile a little.
She buzzed the manager and got the keys from him. He was a kindly old man with a bit of an accent. He looked down a lot and told her how he was so sorry for her loss and told her if there was anything he could do to help.... She thanked him and said not to worry, she was sure she had a handle on it.
She took a deep breath at the door way. She put the key in the lock and she turned it slowly. There was a click and the door pushed open.
Immediately after she stepped through the door she was overwhelmed by something. It was a scent, nothing foul, but more of a potpourri of cinnamon and apples and something else, something that can only be described as her mothers scent. It was unmistakable. That is when it happened; her eyes welled up and started to pour tears down her face. Her mother’s scent was all that was left because her mother was gone.
It took her a long time to compose herself, but once she did, she slowly started to walk through the apartment. It was a very small one bedroom unit with a kitchenette and a bathroom. Her mother kept it very clean.
Surprisingly everything was older, but it was in all very nice condition. You could tell her mother took great care of her home. She ran her fingers across the countertops and the fabric on the furniture, like she needed to touch everything her mother touched so she could feel closer to her somehow. She turned down the hall towards the bedroom that is when she saw them; the entire hall was lined with photos of her.
There they were, every school photo ever taken, every photo she had sent over the years in letters that her mother never responded to. She always figured she must have just tossed them out or something. She had no idea she actually looked at them much less framed them!
She could not believe her eyes. Her mother did think about her. But then that little seed of doubt crept in again.
“Knowing mom, she probably hung them up so when she had friends over she could talk about me and play mom of the year like she used to in the past, but this really means nothing. It is just for show!” She thought to herself, “Don’t try and make this woman something she is not just because she is dead now!”
The rest of the day was spent going through her stuff and making two piles, one for donation and one for taking home. There was an unbelievable amount of stuff to go through for such a small place. She had decided to hire a maid service to come finish cleaning the apartment after she got everything out. She didn’t think she would have enough time to do everything.
Once she got to the kitchen she opened a big drawer and it was packed full of papers. “This must be the junk drawer,” she smiled to herself, “We’ve all got them, even mom!”
She pulled the drawer out and walked into the now empty living room with it. She poured herself a glass of the wine she had found in the cupboard and sat down to sort through the papers.
There were bills, receipts, coupons and so on; all of the stuff one would think they might find in a junk drawer. Then she saw it, a pink sealed envelope with her name and address on it but no stamp.
She looked at the envelope in wonder, “What could this be? Why would mom write me a letter and then never send it?”
She was about to open it when her own name caught her eye again. She started rifling quickly through all of the papers and found at least seven sealed pieces of mail addressed to her that were never sent.
Confused, she gingerly opened the first pink envelope. It was a standard greeting card with a very flowery design that read “Happy Birthday Daughter!”
She could feel her face getting hot with tears, she opened the card. There was her mother’s handwriting and a check written to her for $50
My darling daughter,
I have been thinking about you a lot lately, but especially today since it is your birthday. I can’t believe you are already 25 years old! It seems only yesterday you were just the size of a peanut!
Anyway, I want you to know that I love you and I think about you all of the time. Take yourself out to a nice dinner or something on me!
Love you and miss you,
Mom
She read the lines over and over again. She was now 29 years old, her mom wrote this card over four years ago!
She sat for a long time trying to figure out why she didn’t mail it; she knew that all of the other envelopes were probably other missed birthdays and holidays over the last fifteen years. She didn’t know what to do.
There was a knock on the door.
“Hello?” she heard coming from the next room, “Is anyone here?”
It was the person assigned to her by the funeral home that was supposed to be able to help get all of the financial business in order.
“I’m back here.” She said, “Come in, the door is open.”
When he turned the corner he saw that she had been crying, but he seemed un-phased, not in a callous way, but in a way that you knew he has been through this scene a million times before. He is in the funeral business after all or at least a part of it. How are you holding up kid?” he asked in a way that she knew he didn’t really want to hear the answer.
“I’m fine. Ya know?” she said
“Yeah, these things are never fun.” He said and started shuffling papers, “Basically the reason I am here is because I have some papers for you to sign.”
He went on to explain that she would be given power of attorney so she could take care of all of her mothers bills and could use whatever money she had left in the bank account to make sure everything was paid off and then after taxes and funeral expenses she would get whatever was left.
“Also,” he added, “it seems your mom took out some extra life insurance, so if you sign here, we will find out what that is exactly and that way we can use that towards funeral expenses.”
She really only half paid attention to what he was saying, she just signed where he said to sign and did whatever she could to get him out of her hair as quickly as possible. That card had been like a slap in the face to her and the fact there were still more to be opened was more than she could really deal with at that moment.
She decided that she would take the remainder of the cards and stick them in her luggage, she was not ready to open them. The first one was already more than she could cope with.
By the time the apartment was empty, everything was donated and the funeral was over, she was ready to sleep for a week. She got on the plane and slept all five hours back home.
After having been home for about a week, she still had not opened the remainder of the letters, she hadn’t forgotten them she just didn’t know when the right time would be. It had all been so emotionally exhausting for her.
All of her mothers friends from work telling her stories at the funeral about how her mother talked about her all of the time. Stories about how her mother was so proud and how she would bring in photos to work whenever she would get new ones, it seemed her mother had relayed nearly every detail of her life as she sent them in letters. It baffled her why her mother never wrote back, or if she did, why she didn’t mail the letters.
Her phone rang while she was sitting at her desk at work, this time it was a lawyer hired by the funeral home people or something like that. They wanted to know how she would like the remainder of her mother’s estate dealt with. The lawyer said a lot of things that she really didn’t understand, until finally he said, “Well basically after all of the expenses and so on there is a considerable sum left over.”
“You know, I didn’t ask for this, just because I am her only living relative, now I owe all sorts of money!” she snapped, “This sucks, I am not rich, I didn’t ask for this!” she said again
Her stomach sunk, she saw this as the last kiss off by her mom, to die and leave her daughter in debt.
“No miss, you misunderstood me,” the lawyer said, “When I say sum, I mean, she left you a considerable sum.”
“What?” she asked, “What do you mean? How much?”
“Well by my calculations, after taxes, and the funeral expenses including my fees and the after all of her bills are paid up, you should be getting about $350,000!” He said with a tone in his voice that sounded like someone who was calling to say you just won the lottery.
She dropped the phone receiver.
“Hello?” she heard in a tiny voice from the floor, “Hello?”
She grabbed up the receiver, “There has to be some mistake, my mother worked at a grocery store, this isn’t right.”
“No, no mistake miss,” he said, “It seems that she had purchased extra life insurance, and she barely had any bills to speak of, she had considerable savings and she put quite a bit into her 401k. She has you as the beneficiary to everything.”
The more they talked and went over things, it turned out that almost every cent her mother got in the divorce settlement was invested wisely in retirement funds and savings. It seems she had set herself up to retire and be totally taken care of.
This divorce settlement was what started the rift in the first place. Her mother had taken her father to the cleaners and left her behind with him and no money, she was nearly grown so it didn’t matter so much, but it still bothered her. She couldn’t ever bring herself to forgive her mom for that.
Now it had all come back around.
It was three years to the day her mother died. She was sitting in the living room of her new house. She had just cracked a bottle of wine and there was a stack of letters sitting in front of her, three were already opened. She picked up the envelope she was going to open on this anniversary. She took a long drink from her glass and set it aside and took to opening it, it was a letter dated only a few months before her mother died.
Dear Dolly,
Do you remember when I used to call you that as a child? You were just like the cutest little doll. I loved your smell and your sweet little cheeks. You were my dolly.
I know you and I have not talked much this last few years, and I know some of that is my fault.
I really do love you and I am so proud of you, I only wish I had told you sooner, because now that we are both adults, it is so much harder to talk to you about this. I feel like we are strangers and I hate that. I really want to be a part of your life.
I guess I just want you to know that if you ever want to talk to me, I will always be here for you.
No matter what has happened between us, you will always be my Dolly.
Love you always,
Mom
When she answered the phone she was smiling,
“Customer Service, how may I help you?”
-------------------
“Yes, this is she.”
-------------------
“What? When did it happen?”
-------------------
She hung up the phone.
Her head was spinning. She wished she had not picked up the phone. She felt like she should cry, but she was too stunned to do much of anything. She had to say the words in her head several times before she could say them out loud and only then could she really understand what they meant.
“Your mother passed away this morning. She had a massive stroke.” she whispered to herself
It was unbelievable, just a few hours before she had been swapping ‘crazy mother’ stories with her friends at lunch. She had never been really close to her mom; in fact some would say they were strangers. She could not remember the last time she even got a call or a card on her birthday. She had no idea she was even sick if she was sick at all.
Since her mom divorced her dad, moved out of state and started working at the grocery store fifteen years ago, she never really heard from her. If they talked at all it was because she made the effort, not her mother.
“I never really felt like she wanted me”, she explained to her best friend Jenny who sat in the cube next to her, “This is so surreal, I don’t even know if she has been ill for a long time or what, it has been at least a year since I called her last. I was just so pissed at her for missing my birthday again that I decided not to be the one to call her first this time! I feel like I should be crying, but I can’t.”
“It won’t hit you until you are there” Jenny said, “That is when it will be real, right now, in your head, she still lives in another state. What time is your flight?””
“It is at 7:00 this eve, and yes, you are probably right.” She said
When she arrived in front of her mother’s little apartment complex she took a long while to get out of the cab. She sat and looked at the old brick two story building and tried to imagine her mother coming home from work in her grocery smock walking up the flight of stairs to her apartment. She realized she had never seen the inside of this place and her mother had been living there for over ten years. The lawyer said the manager would let her in, and she just had to get the place sorted out.
The rent was paid through the end of the month and she had a list of all of the donation places around town so she could drop things off. She had rented a truck company to take whatever else she wanted back with her just to be safe. She figured she could just cancel it if there was not anything to salvage.
Her mother had always worked as grocery clerks, or at quickie mart type places, so she imagined all she would have left behind were obviously second hand furniture and maybe a few unpaid bills. Even her car was at least 15 years old, purchased right after the divorce with her father’s money she was sure. Her mother didn’t have anyone in her life. Her mother had always been a loner, so her daughter was all that was left.
“Is this the right place miss?” the cabbie turned and asked with a bewildered look on his face.
“Oh, yes, thank you”, she said and reached in her purse and handed him money, “Keep the change.”
“Thank you!” he said with a big smile, “Do you want me to wait here?”
“No, that will be all for today. Thanks!” she said weakly and got out of the car.
She had tipped him almost what the fare cost, but she tended to be that way when she was feeling guilty about something. It was as if she were trying to make up for something she didn’t do that she should have. She always joked with her friends that it was her ‘Guilt Tip” This thought made her smile a little.
She buzzed the manager and got the keys from him. He was a kindly old man with a bit of an accent. He looked down a lot and told her how he was so sorry for her loss and told her if there was anything he could do to help.... She thanked him and said not to worry, she was sure she had a handle on it.
She took a deep breath at the door way. She put the key in the lock and she turned it slowly. There was a click and the door pushed open.
Immediately after she stepped through the door she was overwhelmed by something. It was a scent, nothing foul, but more of a potpourri of cinnamon and apples and something else, something that can only be described as her mothers scent. It was unmistakable. That is when it happened; her eyes welled up and started to pour tears down her face. Her mother’s scent was all that was left because her mother was gone.
It took her a long time to compose herself, but once she did, she slowly started to walk through the apartment. It was a very small one bedroom unit with a kitchenette and a bathroom. Her mother kept it very clean.
Surprisingly everything was older, but it was in all very nice condition. You could tell her mother took great care of her home. She ran her fingers across the countertops and the fabric on the furniture, like she needed to touch everything her mother touched so she could feel closer to her somehow. She turned down the hall towards the bedroom that is when she saw them; the entire hall was lined with photos of her.
There they were, every school photo ever taken, every photo she had sent over the years in letters that her mother never responded to. She always figured she must have just tossed them out or something. She had no idea she actually looked at them much less framed them!
She could not believe her eyes. Her mother did think about her. But then that little seed of doubt crept in again.
“Knowing mom, she probably hung them up so when she had friends over she could talk about me and play mom of the year like she used to in the past, but this really means nothing. It is just for show!” She thought to herself, “Don’t try and make this woman something she is not just because she is dead now!”
The rest of the day was spent going through her stuff and making two piles, one for donation and one for taking home. There was an unbelievable amount of stuff to go through for such a small place. She had decided to hire a maid service to come finish cleaning the apartment after she got everything out. She didn’t think she would have enough time to do everything.
Once she got to the kitchen she opened a big drawer and it was packed full of papers. “This must be the junk drawer,” she smiled to herself, “We’ve all got them, even mom!”
She pulled the drawer out and walked into the now empty living room with it. She poured herself a glass of the wine she had found in the cupboard and sat down to sort through the papers.
There were bills, receipts, coupons and so on; all of the stuff one would think they might find in a junk drawer. Then she saw it, a pink sealed envelope with her name and address on it but no stamp.
She looked at the envelope in wonder, “What could this be? Why would mom write me a letter and then never send it?”
She was about to open it when her own name caught her eye again. She started rifling quickly through all of the papers and found at least seven sealed pieces of mail addressed to her that were never sent.
Confused, she gingerly opened the first pink envelope. It was a standard greeting card with a very flowery design that read “Happy Birthday Daughter!”
She could feel her face getting hot with tears, she opened the card. There was her mother’s handwriting and a check written to her for $50
My darling daughter,
I have been thinking about you a lot lately, but especially today since it is your birthday. I can’t believe you are already 25 years old! It seems only yesterday you were just the size of a peanut!
Anyway, I want you to know that I love you and I think about you all of the time. Take yourself out to a nice dinner or something on me!
Love you and miss you,
Mom
She read the lines over and over again. She was now 29 years old, her mom wrote this card over four years ago!
She sat for a long time trying to figure out why she didn’t mail it; she knew that all of the other envelopes were probably other missed birthdays and holidays over the last fifteen years. She didn’t know what to do.
There was a knock on the door.
“Hello?” she heard coming from the next room, “Is anyone here?”
It was the person assigned to her by the funeral home that was supposed to be able to help get all of the financial business in order.
“I’m back here.” She said, “Come in, the door is open.”
When he turned the corner he saw that she had been crying, but he seemed un-phased, not in a callous way, but in a way that you knew he has been through this scene a million times before. He is in the funeral business after all or at least a part of it. How are you holding up kid?” he asked in a way that she knew he didn’t really want to hear the answer.
“I’m fine. Ya know?” she said
“Yeah, these things are never fun.” He said and started shuffling papers, “Basically the reason I am here is because I have some papers for you to sign.”
He went on to explain that she would be given power of attorney so she could take care of all of her mothers bills and could use whatever money she had left in the bank account to make sure everything was paid off and then after taxes and funeral expenses she would get whatever was left.
“Also,” he added, “it seems your mom took out some extra life insurance, so if you sign here, we will find out what that is exactly and that way we can use that towards funeral expenses.”
She really only half paid attention to what he was saying, she just signed where he said to sign and did whatever she could to get him out of her hair as quickly as possible. That card had been like a slap in the face to her and the fact there were still more to be opened was more than she could really deal with at that moment.
She decided that she would take the remainder of the cards and stick them in her luggage, she was not ready to open them. The first one was already more than she could cope with.
By the time the apartment was empty, everything was donated and the funeral was over, she was ready to sleep for a week. She got on the plane and slept all five hours back home.
After having been home for about a week, she still had not opened the remainder of the letters, she hadn’t forgotten them she just didn’t know when the right time would be. It had all been so emotionally exhausting for her.
All of her mothers friends from work telling her stories at the funeral about how her mother talked about her all of the time. Stories about how her mother was so proud and how she would bring in photos to work whenever she would get new ones, it seemed her mother had relayed nearly every detail of her life as she sent them in letters. It baffled her why her mother never wrote back, or if she did, why she didn’t mail the letters.
Her phone rang while she was sitting at her desk at work, this time it was a lawyer hired by the funeral home people or something like that. They wanted to know how she would like the remainder of her mother’s estate dealt with. The lawyer said a lot of things that she really didn’t understand, until finally he said, “Well basically after all of the expenses and so on there is a considerable sum left over.”
“You know, I didn’t ask for this, just because I am her only living relative, now I owe all sorts of money!” she snapped, “This sucks, I am not rich, I didn’t ask for this!” she said again
Her stomach sunk, she saw this as the last kiss off by her mom, to die and leave her daughter in debt.
“No miss, you misunderstood me,” the lawyer said, “When I say sum, I mean, she left you a considerable sum.”
“What?” she asked, “What do you mean? How much?”
“Well by my calculations, after taxes, and the funeral expenses including my fees and the after all of her bills are paid up, you should be getting about $350,000!” He said with a tone in his voice that sounded like someone who was calling to say you just won the lottery.
She dropped the phone receiver.
“Hello?” she heard in a tiny voice from the floor, “Hello?”
She grabbed up the receiver, “There has to be some mistake, my mother worked at a grocery store, this isn’t right.”
“No, no mistake miss,” he said, “It seems that she had purchased extra life insurance, and she barely had any bills to speak of, she had considerable savings and she put quite a bit into her 401k. She has you as the beneficiary to everything.”
The more they talked and went over things, it turned out that almost every cent her mother got in the divorce settlement was invested wisely in retirement funds and savings. It seems she had set herself up to retire and be totally taken care of.
This divorce settlement was what started the rift in the first place. Her mother had taken her father to the cleaners and left her behind with him and no money, she was nearly grown so it didn’t matter so much, but it still bothered her. She couldn’t ever bring herself to forgive her mom for that.
Now it had all come back around.
It was three years to the day her mother died. She was sitting in the living room of her new house. She had just cracked a bottle of wine and there was a stack of letters sitting in front of her, three were already opened. She picked up the envelope she was going to open on this anniversary. She took a long drink from her glass and set it aside and took to opening it, it was a letter dated only a few months before her mother died.
Dear Dolly,
Do you remember when I used to call you that as a child? You were just like the cutest little doll. I loved your smell and your sweet little cheeks. You were my dolly.
I know you and I have not talked much this last few years, and I know some of that is my fault.
I really do love you and I am so proud of you, I only wish I had told you sooner, because now that we are both adults, it is so much harder to talk to you about this. I feel like we are strangers and I hate that. I really want to be a part of your life.
I guess I just want you to know that if you ever want to talk to me, I will always be here for you.
No matter what has happened between us, you will always be my Dolly.
Love you always,
Mom
Storytelling (lyrics)
-Belle & Sebastian
Picture a scene in your mind
Looks at all the people and take note of the setting behind
Listen, watch, and wait
A plot begins to take shape
There's a story
And then characters will come to you
Relating events as they choose to
But all their words and actions come entirely from you
If you're a storyteller you might think you're without responsibility
And you can lead your characters anywhere you want
You have immunity
Have you considered the way
People might react to all the things that your characters say?
And are their actions hand in hand with what you want to portay?
Are you sick?
Are you crippled? Insane?
Expressing the desires that dare not speak their name?
Are you the one to be blamed?
Now you're a storyteller you might think you are without responsability
But in directions, actions and words
Cause and effect
You need consistency
How can you finish the tale?
Lives which have played a part
Are summarised from the very start
And episodes left out to make it all go our way
"It's a might big world
Some of it I've seen
But mostly I've only heard
And stories are all fiction from their moment of birth"
You're just a storyteller
You're not trying to escape responsability
If we believe you then you're succesful
But you don't make claims of verity
Picture a scene in your mind
Looks at all the people and take note of the setting behind
Listen, watch, and wait
A plot begins to take shape
There's a story
And then characters will come to you
Relating events as they choose to
But all their words and actions come entirely from you
If you're a storyteller you might think you're without responsibility
And you can lead your characters anywhere you want
You have immunity
Have you considered the way
People might react to all the things that your characters say?
And are their actions hand in hand with what you want to portay?
Are you sick?
Are you crippled? Insane?
Expressing the desires that dare not speak their name?
Are you the one to be blamed?
Now you're a storyteller you might think you are without responsability
But in directions, actions and words
Cause and effect
You need consistency
How can you finish the tale?
Lives which have played a part
Are summarised from the very start
And episodes left out to make it all go our way
"It's a might big world
Some of it I've seen
But mostly I've only heard
And stories are all fiction from their moment of birth"
You're just a storyteller
You're not trying to escape responsability
If we believe you then you're succesful
But you don't make claims of verity
Pandora's Box (2004)
He was the kind of guy that she knew would get her in trouble from the moment she first laid eyes on him. He smiled and kissed her cheek with a familiarity of an old friend. She was so unaccustomed to such forwardness it startled her.
She mumbled some joke about dancing as she tried to push her way past him in the crowed and their friendly hello was tripped into somewhat of an embrace and spin as they were trying to pass in such close quarters.
“I could only be so lucky,” he replied to her quip and pulled her closer than necessary and kissed her cheek again before letting her go.
With that he turned and walked away leaving her breathless.
“What just happened?” she asked herself as she stood there dumbly in the crowd with eyes unable to focus on anything but the back of his head walking away from her. It was like she was in some sort of trance, one that she found very difficult to pull herself out of long enough to return to reality and make it to her destination.
After that run-in she found his face creeping its way into her dreams, his name on the tip of her tongue, the forefront of her thoughts all day. She looked forward to the next chance meeting.
She had to make a real effort not to say his name accidentally. She knew that it would only lead to trouble, and really what right did she have anyway? He was married and so was she. She had no business thinking about him that way. It is not like anything had happened to put her under this spell. All there was, was that all too brief encounter, a one and a half minutes worth of conversation if that.
Was it the touch of his hand, the smell and warmth of his body, or the flirtatious kiss on the cheek? Or was she looking for, in him, something she felt was missing in her current situation that was all too difficult to face?
The next time she saw him at the bar he was sitting alone reading the paper. She stood in the doorway just hidden by the shadows and watched him for several minutes before deciding what to do.
“Should I leave right now? Should I turn around and pretend I never saw him, would that be the best thing for me to do?” she asked herself, “Or should I just walk in and pretend I didn’t see him and maybe he won’t notice me and we will just be in the same place at the same time with no one being the wiser? It isn’t like we are old friends or something!” she reasoned with herself, “In fact he probably doesn’t even remember me. He probably has not thought about me once since that time we ran into each other. I bet I could walk right by him and he would maybe find me slightly familiar and nothing more!”
It was final, she had convinced herself that, as usual, she has made a mountain out of a molehill and she was ready to take a breath, pull her courage about her and walk past him. He would not even recognize her, she would just walk by him, to the bar and he would not even look up from his paper. After all this is her head trip, not his, he is happily married and she is just one face in a sea of faces from a party that was ages ago!
She stepped from the shadows and started her journey from the door to the bar. The moment she thought she had cleared his eye line she heard her name. It was a voice that made her stop dead in her tracks. It was the voice that had been playing on a loop in her head for weeks.
She turned and he was standing, this surprised her, it was as if she could have faced him better had he been sitting, the fact he was standing in front of her made her feel suddenly small and weak. She thought she might faint.
She must have looked it because he asked, “Are you ok? You look a little pale. Would you like to sit down?”
She sat down in the empty chair opposite the one he had been sitting without even thinking. At that moment he could have suggested that she do just about anything and she probably would have.
“Hello?” he asked, he was now sitting across from her, “Would you like me to get you some water or something?”
She realized right then that she had not said a word; she had just walked in and sat down at his command. She didn’t know what to say, she knew she had to say something but in his presence, this close to the man who had been living in her head all of these weeks, she suddenly felt out of breath, without a voice, like if she opened her mouth words would not come out.
“Um... Sorry, I’m ok.” She squeaked she cleared her throat, “Water would be great, um, thank you.” She stammered.
She thought sending him across the room to get her water would buy her a few moments to compose herself and her thoughts.
He stood up and headed to the bar, she was happy to have a moment to herself. She thought of things she could say, excuses she could make to get out of there the moment he got back.
“Oh, I was just popping my head in, I am supposed to meet friends, but I think they are at the other bar.” is something she thought of saying, short and sweet and it would get her out of there.
When he came back he had a glass of water in one hand and a cold beer in the other he sat down and placed them both in front of her.
“I hope you don’t mind,” he said,” I thought you might like a drink.”
She realized he still had a full drink on his side of the table so the beer was for her, that was her invitation to stay, that was her exit disappearing before her eyes.
“Not at all, thank you.” She said and smiled, put the beer to her lips and took a swig. She normally hated the taste of beer but at that moment it seemed good, like somewhere in her mind she knew that since he was drinking this beer, his lips at that moment tasted like the beer. It seemed somehow decadent and it gave her butterflies in her stomach and made her giggle and feel a bit more relaxed.
They proceeded with small talk she was surprised at the ease in which they spoke. She didn’t usually have such an easy time of it; it was hard for her to feel comfortable with strangers as she was a fairly shy person. Usually she listened more than she spoke in public. With him, like the first time they met, it was the feeling of being near an old friend.
What started out as a chat about the weather and music they liked turned quickly into the kinds of things two people would share on a third date if all of the previous dates had gone extremely well.
They sat and chatted well into the night. She was over her nervousness and she felt close to him, as odd as it might seem. She would catch herself gazing into his eyes when he would explain something that he felt passionate about; she delighted in seeing the fire there. She found herself giggling and flirting and touching his arm when she was trying to make a point, much like the way she used to touch her husband years ago when they were first married.
That was the one subject neither of them mentioned, neither of them mentioned the fact that they both wore rings on their fingers that symbolized the fact that they belong to someone else and that this conversation should have ended a long time ago.
“Last Call in ten minutes!” the bartender shouted
“Have we really been talking that long?” she asked him, “It doesn’t feel like it! Where did the time go?”
He reached across the table and laid his hand on top of hers. She could feel the warmth of his hand and the metal of his ring, this startled her and brought her back to reality more than she would have liked at that moment.
“What are we doing?” she asked before she could stop the words from spilling out of her mouth
“Feeling something for a change,” he said in a very matter of fact tone, “I for one can say I have not felt anything in a long time until tonight and I have a sneaking suspicion you understand what I am talking about.”
All she could do was nod and turn her hand over so that her fingers were tangling with his. It was as if no one had ever touched her before. The heat she could feel between them made her feel like she would disappear into nothing and be absorbed into him.
“I have to go, this is wrong.” She said again surprised at her own involuntary words.
“Meet me here tomorrow.” He said
She pulled her hand away and stood up, “I can’t.” she insisted and died a little when she heard the words because she knew that meeting him is the only thing in the world she really wanted to be doing. She didn’t even want to leave right then.
“I will be here, I hope you come.” He said and made a motion like he was about to stand up, she knew if he did she could not stop herself any longer so she turned on her heal and hurried out the door before he could get to his feet.
She thought she heard him calling after her, but so much of their conversation was already swimming through her head, she could have imagined it.
By the time she got to bed that night her husband was already sleeping. She lay in bed listening to him breath. Tears rolled down her cheeks, but she tried hard to concentrate on her breathing so he would not wake up to discover her crying. She didn’t know what she would say to him if he did.
Her mind was spinning like a top, everything from that evening flashing before her mind’s eye over and over again. She was analyzing every move, every expression every word.
If she slept at all it was a light sleep with heavy dreams replaying the night. She got out of bed the second the alarm went off and rushed off to work. She knew she had to get out before her husband woke up. She did nothing wrong, but she just could not face him.
Nothing is lonelier than having something eating you up inside and knowing that you can not share it with anyone around you. That is what the whole day was like.
She tried to concentrate on her work, but she kept coming back to the end of the evening. She knew she would meet him, she knew she was powerless to resist.
“Why is this happening to me?” she asked herself in the mirror while washing her hands in the ladies room at the office.
She had not realized she spoke out loud until she heard a voice form the stall, “What did you say?”
She rushed out before she had to face her questioner.
The night came and she got dressed and headed out to meet him. She had resolved that it was going to happen, so she may as well not fight it. She had an eerie calm about her. Like she had resigned to whatever will, be will be. Her feelings were mixed, part anticipation and part exhaustion, not only from the sleepless nights but the years without real heat or passion in her home life.
He was there when she walked in, sitting at the same table, drinking the same beer, but this time he wasn’t reading, he was watching the door.
“You came!” he said, “I knew you would!”
He stood up and gave her a hug. He wrapped his arms around her tightly and pulled her close. She was grateful he was holding on so tight because she thought she might have fallen over had he not. She squeezed him back like someone holding on for dear life.
When he finally released his embrace she grabbed the back of her chair and helped herself settle into it.
“I thought about you all day.” He said, “I know I shouldn’t, but I did.”
“I did to.” She admitted to him, “In fact I have not been able to stop thinking about you since we met.”
“I want to kiss you right now.” He said and he leaned forward towards her lips
She surprised herself by pulling away, “We can’t!” she said, “We are both married!”
It was like a trained reaction more than will power, she had always taken her wedding vows very seriously and they had never felt quite as tested as they did right then.
He was still leaning across the table so he was very close to her face when he said, “We shouldn’t, but I have never felt this sort of connection before, not even with my wife, do you think we really can deny this?”
It took all of her resolve to not lean forward the two inches and kiss his lips but she held steady, “No, we can’t, we made a promise.” And she put her hand on his cheek and looked in his eyes for a moment and then gently nudged him back to his side of the table.
They sat in silence for a long time, just looking at one another and playing with each others fingers, tangling them and untangling them.
Then something in her head clicked.
“I need to ask you something.” She said, “Do you think that we are feeling all of this passion because of some supernatural connection, or is it because we are both so starved for human touch we are inventing some grand passion in our minds and it has nothing to do with our hearts?”
“I am not sure I know where you are going with this.” He said, “I for one think there is something much bigger here going on between the two of us, I don’t really buy into supernatural connection business, but I do think that there is something very viable between us. A very real spark that I can’t say I have felt before even with my wife.”
His words stabbed her heart because she knew what he was saying felt true to her, but she could not let her guard down, not yet.
“Let me try and explain like this” she said and she stood up from her chair and stepped in front of him, “Now close your eyes and don’t move or say anything no mater what I do.”
He closed his eyes and she placed her hands gently on either side of his face. She leaned in very close to him and paused for a moment before she gently placed her lips on his and gave him a slow and soft lingering kiss. She moved her mouth to his ear and whispered, “Now does this feeling have anything to do with love, or is it all adrenaline caused by anticipation, loneliness and the unknown?”
She let go of his face and turned to walk away, he grabbed her wrist, “Wait. I know you feel it too.”
She pulled herself free and said over her shoulder, “I’m sorry. I have not felt anything in a very long time.” and started out the door.
She was surprised at her own resolve because inside her stomach was doing flip flops, every inch of her skin was tingling in anticipation of his next touch and her lips were burning to kiss him for real, but she knew if she started she would not be able to stop herself.
She knew that by giving in to her passion she would have changed her whole world and the worlds of all of other people around them, and for what; the fulfillment of a fantasy, the answer to a question that may not be worth it in the long run?
She knew the answers they were seeking would take doing things that cannot be undone and are not easily, if ever, forgiven; there was no room for error in this game.
She knew as she walked out the door, never looking back, that she wasn’t ready to open Pandora’s Box.
***********
(lyrics)
I would rather scream than hear the silence for one more day
If I can't get past it, I will build on it
The sky is the limit
There is no solace
in these creature comforts
and the broken promise still rings in my ears
Intuitive or not
you only need eyes to see this truth
Can't
Won't
and then it is back to you again
Do we take the dive when we are ready
Or will there always be someone there to pull us back in
I want to jump
You want to stay
You want to run
I want to sleep
It is a catastrophe waiting to happen
Is there no one willing to open this Pandora's box?
-DJL
She mumbled some joke about dancing as she tried to push her way past him in the crowed and their friendly hello was tripped into somewhat of an embrace and spin as they were trying to pass in such close quarters.
“I could only be so lucky,” he replied to her quip and pulled her closer than necessary and kissed her cheek again before letting her go.
With that he turned and walked away leaving her breathless.
“What just happened?” she asked herself as she stood there dumbly in the crowd with eyes unable to focus on anything but the back of his head walking away from her. It was like she was in some sort of trance, one that she found very difficult to pull herself out of long enough to return to reality and make it to her destination.
After that run-in she found his face creeping its way into her dreams, his name on the tip of her tongue, the forefront of her thoughts all day. She looked forward to the next chance meeting.
She had to make a real effort not to say his name accidentally. She knew that it would only lead to trouble, and really what right did she have anyway? He was married and so was she. She had no business thinking about him that way. It is not like anything had happened to put her under this spell. All there was, was that all too brief encounter, a one and a half minutes worth of conversation if that.
Was it the touch of his hand, the smell and warmth of his body, or the flirtatious kiss on the cheek? Or was she looking for, in him, something she felt was missing in her current situation that was all too difficult to face?
The next time she saw him at the bar he was sitting alone reading the paper. She stood in the doorway just hidden by the shadows and watched him for several minutes before deciding what to do.
“Should I leave right now? Should I turn around and pretend I never saw him, would that be the best thing for me to do?” she asked herself, “Or should I just walk in and pretend I didn’t see him and maybe he won’t notice me and we will just be in the same place at the same time with no one being the wiser? It isn’t like we are old friends or something!” she reasoned with herself, “In fact he probably doesn’t even remember me. He probably has not thought about me once since that time we ran into each other. I bet I could walk right by him and he would maybe find me slightly familiar and nothing more!”
It was final, she had convinced herself that, as usual, she has made a mountain out of a molehill and she was ready to take a breath, pull her courage about her and walk past him. He would not even recognize her, she would just walk by him, to the bar and he would not even look up from his paper. After all this is her head trip, not his, he is happily married and she is just one face in a sea of faces from a party that was ages ago!
She stepped from the shadows and started her journey from the door to the bar. The moment she thought she had cleared his eye line she heard her name. It was a voice that made her stop dead in her tracks. It was the voice that had been playing on a loop in her head for weeks.
She turned and he was standing, this surprised her, it was as if she could have faced him better had he been sitting, the fact he was standing in front of her made her feel suddenly small and weak. She thought she might faint.
She must have looked it because he asked, “Are you ok? You look a little pale. Would you like to sit down?”
She sat down in the empty chair opposite the one he had been sitting without even thinking. At that moment he could have suggested that she do just about anything and she probably would have.
“Hello?” he asked, he was now sitting across from her, “Would you like me to get you some water or something?”
She realized right then that she had not said a word; she had just walked in and sat down at his command. She didn’t know what to say, she knew she had to say something but in his presence, this close to the man who had been living in her head all of these weeks, she suddenly felt out of breath, without a voice, like if she opened her mouth words would not come out.
“Um... Sorry, I’m ok.” She squeaked she cleared her throat, “Water would be great, um, thank you.” She stammered.
She thought sending him across the room to get her water would buy her a few moments to compose herself and her thoughts.
He stood up and headed to the bar, she was happy to have a moment to herself. She thought of things she could say, excuses she could make to get out of there the moment he got back.
“Oh, I was just popping my head in, I am supposed to meet friends, but I think they are at the other bar.” is something she thought of saying, short and sweet and it would get her out of there.
When he came back he had a glass of water in one hand and a cold beer in the other he sat down and placed them both in front of her.
“I hope you don’t mind,” he said,” I thought you might like a drink.”
She realized he still had a full drink on his side of the table so the beer was for her, that was her invitation to stay, that was her exit disappearing before her eyes.
“Not at all, thank you.” She said and smiled, put the beer to her lips and took a swig. She normally hated the taste of beer but at that moment it seemed good, like somewhere in her mind she knew that since he was drinking this beer, his lips at that moment tasted like the beer. It seemed somehow decadent and it gave her butterflies in her stomach and made her giggle and feel a bit more relaxed.
They proceeded with small talk she was surprised at the ease in which they spoke. She didn’t usually have such an easy time of it; it was hard for her to feel comfortable with strangers as she was a fairly shy person. Usually she listened more than she spoke in public. With him, like the first time they met, it was the feeling of being near an old friend.
What started out as a chat about the weather and music they liked turned quickly into the kinds of things two people would share on a third date if all of the previous dates had gone extremely well.
They sat and chatted well into the night. She was over her nervousness and she felt close to him, as odd as it might seem. She would catch herself gazing into his eyes when he would explain something that he felt passionate about; she delighted in seeing the fire there. She found herself giggling and flirting and touching his arm when she was trying to make a point, much like the way she used to touch her husband years ago when they were first married.
That was the one subject neither of them mentioned, neither of them mentioned the fact that they both wore rings on their fingers that symbolized the fact that they belong to someone else and that this conversation should have ended a long time ago.
“Last Call in ten minutes!” the bartender shouted
“Have we really been talking that long?” she asked him, “It doesn’t feel like it! Where did the time go?”
He reached across the table and laid his hand on top of hers. She could feel the warmth of his hand and the metal of his ring, this startled her and brought her back to reality more than she would have liked at that moment.
“What are we doing?” she asked before she could stop the words from spilling out of her mouth
“Feeling something for a change,” he said in a very matter of fact tone, “I for one can say I have not felt anything in a long time until tonight and I have a sneaking suspicion you understand what I am talking about.”
All she could do was nod and turn her hand over so that her fingers were tangling with his. It was as if no one had ever touched her before. The heat she could feel between them made her feel like she would disappear into nothing and be absorbed into him.
“I have to go, this is wrong.” She said again surprised at her own involuntary words.
“Meet me here tomorrow.” He said
She pulled her hand away and stood up, “I can’t.” she insisted and died a little when she heard the words because she knew that meeting him is the only thing in the world she really wanted to be doing. She didn’t even want to leave right then.
“I will be here, I hope you come.” He said and made a motion like he was about to stand up, she knew if he did she could not stop herself any longer so she turned on her heal and hurried out the door before he could get to his feet.
She thought she heard him calling after her, but so much of their conversation was already swimming through her head, she could have imagined it.
By the time she got to bed that night her husband was already sleeping. She lay in bed listening to him breath. Tears rolled down her cheeks, but she tried hard to concentrate on her breathing so he would not wake up to discover her crying. She didn’t know what she would say to him if he did.
Her mind was spinning like a top, everything from that evening flashing before her mind’s eye over and over again. She was analyzing every move, every expression every word.
If she slept at all it was a light sleep with heavy dreams replaying the night. She got out of bed the second the alarm went off and rushed off to work. She knew she had to get out before her husband woke up. She did nothing wrong, but she just could not face him.
Nothing is lonelier than having something eating you up inside and knowing that you can not share it with anyone around you. That is what the whole day was like.
She tried to concentrate on her work, but she kept coming back to the end of the evening. She knew she would meet him, she knew she was powerless to resist.
“Why is this happening to me?” she asked herself in the mirror while washing her hands in the ladies room at the office.
She had not realized she spoke out loud until she heard a voice form the stall, “What did you say?”
She rushed out before she had to face her questioner.
The night came and she got dressed and headed out to meet him. She had resolved that it was going to happen, so she may as well not fight it. She had an eerie calm about her. Like she had resigned to whatever will, be will be. Her feelings were mixed, part anticipation and part exhaustion, not only from the sleepless nights but the years without real heat or passion in her home life.
He was there when she walked in, sitting at the same table, drinking the same beer, but this time he wasn’t reading, he was watching the door.
“You came!” he said, “I knew you would!”
He stood up and gave her a hug. He wrapped his arms around her tightly and pulled her close. She was grateful he was holding on so tight because she thought she might have fallen over had he not. She squeezed him back like someone holding on for dear life.
When he finally released his embrace she grabbed the back of her chair and helped herself settle into it.
“I thought about you all day.” He said, “I know I shouldn’t, but I did.”
“I did to.” She admitted to him, “In fact I have not been able to stop thinking about you since we met.”
“I want to kiss you right now.” He said and he leaned forward towards her lips
She surprised herself by pulling away, “We can’t!” she said, “We are both married!”
It was like a trained reaction more than will power, she had always taken her wedding vows very seriously and they had never felt quite as tested as they did right then.
He was still leaning across the table so he was very close to her face when he said, “We shouldn’t, but I have never felt this sort of connection before, not even with my wife, do you think we really can deny this?”
It took all of her resolve to not lean forward the two inches and kiss his lips but she held steady, “No, we can’t, we made a promise.” And she put her hand on his cheek and looked in his eyes for a moment and then gently nudged him back to his side of the table.
They sat in silence for a long time, just looking at one another and playing with each others fingers, tangling them and untangling them.
Then something in her head clicked.
“I need to ask you something.” She said, “Do you think that we are feeling all of this passion because of some supernatural connection, or is it because we are both so starved for human touch we are inventing some grand passion in our minds and it has nothing to do with our hearts?”
“I am not sure I know where you are going with this.” He said, “I for one think there is something much bigger here going on between the two of us, I don’t really buy into supernatural connection business, but I do think that there is something very viable between us. A very real spark that I can’t say I have felt before even with my wife.”
His words stabbed her heart because she knew what he was saying felt true to her, but she could not let her guard down, not yet.
“Let me try and explain like this” she said and she stood up from her chair and stepped in front of him, “Now close your eyes and don’t move or say anything no mater what I do.”
He closed his eyes and she placed her hands gently on either side of his face. She leaned in very close to him and paused for a moment before she gently placed her lips on his and gave him a slow and soft lingering kiss. She moved her mouth to his ear and whispered, “Now does this feeling have anything to do with love, or is it all adrenaline caused by anticipation, loneliness and the unknown?”
She let go of his face and turned to walk away, he grabbed her wrist, “Wait. I know you feel it too.”
She pulled herself free and said over her shoulder, “I’m sorry. I have not felt anything in a very long time.” and started out the door.
She was surprised at her own resolve because inside her stomach was doing flip flops, every inch of her skin was tingling in anticipation of his next touch and her lips were burning to kiss him for real, but she knew if she started she would not be able to stop herself.
She knew that by giving in to her passion she would have changed her whole world and the worlds of all of other people around them, and for what; the fulfillment of a fantasy, the answer to a question that may not be worth it in the long run?
She knew the answers they were seeking would take doing things that cannot be undone and are not easily, if ever, forgiven; there was no room for error in this game.
She knew as she walked out the door, never looking back, that she wasn’t ready to open Pandora’s Box.
***********
(lyrics)
I would rather scream than hear the silence for one more day
If I can't get past it, I will build on it
The sky is the limit
There is no solace
in these creature comforts
and the broken promise still rings in my ears
Intuitive or not
you only need eyes to see this truth
Can't
Won't
and then it is back to you again
Do we take the dive when we are ready
Or will there always be someone there to pull us back in
I want to jump
You want to stay
You want to run
I want to sleep
It is a catastrophe waiting to happen
Is there no one willing to open this Pandora's box?
-DJL
Lyrics-Untitled Song
9/5/00 - Untitled Song
-DJL
Devoid of Common Law fear
Coffee makes the morning and the laws
Say we can’t make love
Unless we pay for the mistakes of
A bastard and her beau
Mothers beg children for silence
As children beg Fathers to break it
Why are clowns so frightening?
Meant for children
And nightmares
Man made demons live in
The fear of the unknown
Carbonation makes the bitters go down
Leaving the head swimming
With dreams of pink elephants
Wearing rose colored glasses
To only realize how to live
As Mr. Death is breathing down your neck
Promises made to life as bargaining chips
Are broken with the first sigh of relief
Smog filled eyes
Take a pull off that last cigarette
And ponder the things that used to mean so much
Do you remember the moment beauty died?
-DJL
Devoid of Common Law fear
Coffee makes the morning and the laws
Say we can’t make love
Unless we pay for the mistakes of
A bastard and her beau
Mothers beg children for silence
As children beg Fathers to break it
Why are clowns so frightening?
Meant for children
And nightmares
Man made demons live in
The fear of the unknown
Carbonation makes the bitters go down
Leaving the head swimming
With dreams of pink elephants
Wearing rose colored glasses
To only realize how to live
As Mr. Death is breathing down your neck
Promises made to life as bargaining chips
Are broken with the first sigh of relief
Smog filled eyes
Take a pull off that last cigarette
And ponder the things that used to mean so much
Do you remember the moment beauty died?
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