An Excerpt From An Untitled Work

Almost two months ago I set off on a journey to write a book in 30 days. I did not complete the bull-riding-400challenge, but I worked at it, enjoyed it, and learned a lot.

You know it’s crazy that I learned little things, some I already knew that were driven home while others were completely “aha” moments. I think NanoWrimo; even though I wasn’t a winner, was a huge personal success. I did something I was literally terrified of doing. And that’s awesome.

Without further ado I give you, another excerpt from this project:

She smiles and her soft brown hair cascades down her shoulders and she looks at me, sweet. Johnny, hating your father until the end of eternity won’t bring me back either. It’s not what I want her to say. I want her to tell me that he should burn. He should have died instead of her. Instead she tells me that love is what created me and that if I’d let that love in, I’d be more like her than him.

The tears start to swell up under my eyes and before I can stop it I’m crying. Denying aloud that I’m anything like that beast, the murderer. The evil bastard incarcerated the majority of my life. As my anger swells she’s smiles and looks at me, asks me why I can’t open my eyes and see.

And I do exactly that. I open my eyes and scream as fistfuls of grass and clods of dirt come out in my hands. Pounding at the ground, terrified by her betrayal. I wanted her to tell me that it was ok, that I could go on hating and it wouldn’t do a thing to me and that he deserved whatever punishment he got, guilty or not.

What? Guilty or not? Where did that come from? Crazy thoughts, I just can’t think straight because there’s too much to face. I throw the grass and run. Tears streaming down my face, I swipe at them with my sleeves and fumble for the keys. Unlocking the door and bolting myself inside.

Pounding the steering wheel I feel like someone’s just unleashed a bull and the site isn’t going to be pretty. Push to start, crank the music, pull away from the cemetery like I’ve just seen a ghost. But I have. And she’ll never stop following me.

The sounds of my visit trail behind me with a little Chevelle pouring out the windows with bass blowing intensity.

“…Lawful, vengeful, awful, friendship, misfits
Bits of feelings, thieving, fits inside revealing
Time to censor, censor, realize
Censor, Censor, no friend of mine…”
Chevelle, Same Old Trip

p.s. the picture included with this posting is an accurate depiction of how i felt through much of this experience 🙂

I Don’t Care Too Much About The Weather

The car from my presently past future.

The weight of the weather hangs heavy on my shoulders and I look to the past, the future, the place in between; always so uncomfortable, in the here and now.  Sick of reading about how life is what you make it.  Too many inspirational messages have become cliché by the powers of Facebook and trend-of-the-minute social media outlets.  Checking in to check out.  Spreading the love/hate.

Tell me one more time everything will be alright, one door closes another one opens, or my personal favorite, “everything happens for a reason”, and I’m likely to try and take my own eye out with a pencil.  Only the blind survive this mass media world, spared the harsh imagery and tactical planning of the mysterious “they”.

The curve comes up on me like a crashing tidal wave and I slip, spilling my coffee on freshly pressed pleated pants.  Cursing under my breath for keeping two wardrobes.  For selling out.  For being anything less than me.  In a past life I’d be happy my old battered wreck of a ride was still intact.  Today I look at my Porsche and curse it for its smooth handling.  For allowing myself to daydream.  Where was I before all of this?

Of No Particular Consequence

I didn’t know it would come down to this.  He looking over my shoulder, me waiting for him to disappear.  But then again I guess we never really think anything Of No Particular Consequencewill come down to the way it does.  That’s life.  More circumstance than planning.  Have you ever heard anyone say that everything actually went according to plan?  Travel plans occasionally maybe.  That’s as far as it goes.

He kept sitting there.  Just looking.  Over my shoulder.  His breathing a steady hum drum of white noise in my ear.  My hair tussled, mind disheveled.  If only the path were more clear.  Circles, always walking in circles never finding the end.  Until it is the end.  Do you know it when you find it?  Is it as simple as exiting the hedge maze, after hours of searching for just the right pattern of twists and turns, exhaling in relief at the exit.  Or is it something more.  John Green’s idea of the Great Perhaps.  Though it wasn’t born in him he’s disseminated the idea to the up and coming generation.  I get it.  I follow.

But that gets me nowhere from here.  With him.  Breathing.  Over my shoulder.  Need to shake it.  Erase it.  But in order to do that I have to answer the question.  What is the question?  Is he the mad hatter?  I don’t know.  Wandering.  Wandering inside my own mind… pull out.  What do I see?  Nothing.  Just me.  And he, breathing.  Breathe.  Focus.  Blink.  Breathe.  Repeat.

The screen of my laptop comes into focus before me.  As if it hadn’t been in front of me for the last hour.  “What is it I’m supposed to be looking for?” I ask.

“Something of consequence” comes his dry reply.

“could you be more vague?” I quip

“no” he states simply and our brief banter comes to an end.  So I go back to staring at the blank screen.  What will please him?  I’ve been given no direction other than to find something of consequence.  Such a relative statement.  Everything and nothing can be and is or is not consequential depending on the state of mind, timeframe, and mood.  Any greater combination of things can drag into this subjective equation of no mathematical background and poof, you have consequence.  Drivel.  Spewing drivel to stall and spare myself.  What exactly?

I type into a Google search “consequence” and he immediately shoots it down.  I tell him not to criticize research skills and that I’m gearing up.  Connect the dots.  The chain game.  All patterns and linear thinking that can arrive at a place you hadn’t yet thought of and so I go.  First result, Merriam Webster’s Dictionary version of the word.  Of course I click in, there’s never one simple definition of an English word.   At least one that I’ve yet to find.  (If you come across one, let me know)

con·se·quence noun

1. the effect, result, or outcome of something occurring earlier: The accident was the consequence of reckless driving.

2. an act or instance of following something as an effect, result, or outcome.

3. the conclusion reached by a line of reasoning; inference.

4. importance or significance: a matter of no consequence.

5. importance in rank or position; distinction: a man of great consequence in art.