This is my head...most of the time. The rest of the time I'm thinking about sex or food. I like writing short stories mostly real but sometimes fiction. I am exploring prose which can be painful for me and you. And sometimes I blog about being a mother, how much potty training blows and how to get pee out of your carpet.
I woke up…
Last night I dreamed of you. We were standing in my kitchen facing each other.
You told me to close my eyes.
I closed them.
You pressed your lips against my left eyelid.
Then…you pressed your lips against my right eyelid.
You raised my chin with two fingers and pressed your lips against my lips.
We lingered with our lips touching for a moment and I felt my body warm.
My limbs were liquid and so was my resolve.
Every part of me spilling on to the floor pooled at your feet.
I opened my eyes.
We said nothing.
I wanted more.
I woke up…
I stood in the cold. The air was biting and the wind harsh. But I had to watch him. He was wearing jeans, work boots, a bulky sweatshirt and a baseball cap. His back was to me but I could see he was the same height and build as you. And when he turned his head slightly to the right I saw your profile.
Is it you? Could this all have been a stunt? A joke? Your back was to me again and I’m forced to stare at the back of your baseball cap. Turn…dammit…turn. You are diligently laboring…trying to install a sign at the entrance of a parking garage. It could be you. You build things. You install things.
Every second that passes my heartbeat quickens with the anticipation of you showing your face. A face that I’ve only been able to look at in pictures or clouding memories. I want to see your face… please turn. It’s been so lonely here…so dull…so painful. I will forgive you anything if it was all a ruse…I don’t care. Just turn around and be you.
My breath is caught when you turn to walk toward me. It is not you. Just an older, awkward, less beautiful version of someone I once knew. My heart broke again because I realized I was actually waiting for you. In that moment my hopes were so high that when they were dashed to the ground by reality tears effortlessly rolled down my cheeks.
And so begins the missing of you again.
So by now everyone knows that Hostess is shutting down production and closing it’s doors for good. It came as a complete shock to me. Their cakes are known for their eternal shelf life. Why would I think the company itself had an expiration date? As a matter of fact when I heard the news I took it as a sign of the Apocalypse. I mean the date is only a month away. The demise of Hostess could be the end of everything. I mean all things considered it’s difficult to fathom that there will never be another Twinkie made…ever!
As a child my mother did not buy us Hostess products. She baked. So anything we wanted in the way of sweets would come from our oven and not the store. But when I was a teenager and began to buy things for myself I did enjoy an occasional Fruit Pie and RingDings. And when I became a professional teenage babysitter…well the gloves were off when it came to snacking in other peoples’ houses. There was one family I would sit for that had three sons. And their cupboards were filled with every Hostess treat, chip and canned cheese you could fathom. I would leave there in a snack induced haze…stumbling home singing songs of lost love and good times. But now as an adult I dutifully wear my mother’s shoes. My child eats the treats I bake. And for her the word Hostess will mean nothing other than a woman hosting a party.
But until all the cakes, pies and Donettes are gone. I urge you to sing this little song I wrote to say farewell to Hostess brand products. Please sing to the tune of Bye Bye Miss American Pie…by Don McLean
A long, long time ago
I can still remember how your Ding Dongs made me smile.
And if I knew you’d leave so soon I would have savored your Suzy Q’s
Maybe I’d be happy for a while
But November’s news made my soul quake and long for one more Cream Filled Cupcake
Bad news on the TV - Your haunting sweets won’t leave me
I cannot tell you that I cried when I heard that your business fried
But something touched me deep inside the day the Twinkies died
So bye-bye mini Hostess Fruit Pies
Kiss your apple and your cherry and your lemon goodbye
No more Ho Hos, SnowBalls, Ring Dings or pies
No more Sweet Rolls going straight to my thighs
No more Sweet Rolls going straight to my thighs
And we’ll be singing…
Bye-bye mini Hostess Fruit Pies
Kiss your apple and your cherry and your lemon goodbye
No more Ho Hos, SnowBalls, Ring Dings or pies
No more Sweet Rolls going straight to my thighs
No more Sweet Rolls going straight to my thighs…
Repeat chorus drunkenly until you wake up with your face covered in cream filling.
My sentiments dissipate when darkness is expelled by light. The sun radiates and casts my fears and worries out with the night. They’re swept away in a breeze and rustle on the pavement with the leaves. Never actually leaving but whirring around like mini cyclones just outside my door.
I choke down a dry piece of motivation as I sip my freshly brewed ambition…sweetened and creamed for an easy transition from the cup to my soul. I gaze out the window and watch as my complications whir themselves into a haze of dew veiled light. The transition is complete to morning from night. It’s now safe to exit.
The day is full and bursting with purpose. My tiny cohort rides along on all my missions. Strapped in her chair she shares my life in this seated position. She bargains and negotiates as well as I and never hesitates to vocalize whenever she is is not pleased. She’s my partner in crime.
We arrive back home before the sun wanes and dine on the glory of the day. We wash it down with the nectar of success. Then play games and wind down the last minutes of daylight together. Undress and ready for bed. I lay my tiny partner down to rest her head. She dreams of fun filled times and nursery rhymes…I hope.
I retire to my room and watch as night sweeps light from the day. Then darkness pushes my door open to return what’s rightfully mine. It lays my mass of weighty mess on my back…right at the base of my neck. Pushing down my shoulders and wrecks my disposition. The pain draws tears and sometimes cynical laughter. But I know another dawn will come.
Let me preface this entry by saying that this is a rant to my recently deceased friends. And if you know either of them and are sensitive you may not want to read this yet as it is not a love letter. Everyone else…read on.
It seems to me that in your death I am the victim. You are relieved of your earthly chains…your knotting pains and worries. But I sit friendless and grieved. Gutted and left empty by your absence. Left here to stare at ghostly pictures and read archived messages and emails that we shared. I don’t want to do this…it is just my fate.
Two friends that died by their own vices. Two friends gone that I shared my heart and soul with. I shared my life and homes with. I gave my love and self to. Two friends gone that I called friend that I’ve hugged, comforted and been comforted by. Two friends that changed my life because without them I would not be here. Their absence from my space-time continuum would tear a hole in my existence.
And because you’ve been relieved of your worldly woes…you no longer suffer. You are no longer tortured by your demons. Because you no longer feel strangled by life…I ask you. Was it worth it? Does your heart still break? It should. Do you see ours breaking? Did you float up from your jaundiced poisoned body and think ‘glad that’s over…I’m out…good luck kids…tell my mom I love her’ and float away in bliss? And did you sit next to your body as went into cardiac arrest while lying in vomit and think…’phew…finally out of there.’ Did you happen to catch glimpses of your family and friends on the way out? Did you hear their tortured wails and heart broken sobs for you?
You don’t know how sick I am of hearing people tell me how peaceful and pain free my dead friends are. I don’t give a fuck. I wish their souls were as wracked with grief as mine. I wish they cried when they passed for leaving all the love here behind. I wish they suddenly realized how short sighted and selfish they have been.
Did you not know I have demons? Did you not know that I was in pain too? This year has been a total fuck all! I cry all the time. I tell family that I am on the verge of a nervous breakdown to which they reply…’no you’re not.’ On my best day I feel as though my mind is leaking out of my ears. I want to dope and drink myself to oblivion but I can’t…I just can’t. And every day I go a little bit crazier. And every night I sob over something into my pillow. And every morning I shower and slap some make-up over my puffy face and slide on my worn out Airwalks and face the goddamn shit ridden world.
God forbid we could have done this together…as a team…facing challenges and life and leaning on each other.
But no…I’m glad you’re free. I’m glad you’re happy. You go and dance with angels or whatever the fuck it is you get to do now. Have at it boys. I’m thrilled you’re enjoying yourselves. In case you don’t recognize it in the afterlife that was sarcasm you dead fucks!
Remember that ten to fifteen seconds I mentioned in a previous post? You know that fleeting moment after you strap your kid in the car and close the door until you get to the driver door and open it up again. My alone time. Well my daughter being the sadist that she is has figured out that her ranting during my fifteen seconds of ‘me time’ is going unnoticed. So the other night while after stuffing her little kicking and screaming body into her carseat I said to her, “you need to stop whining.” She yelled her response as I was closing the door, “I’M NOT!” The door slammed and I walked to my side of the car and opened the door to her completed sentence, “WHINING!”
I commended her genius to spoil my moment by waiting for me to open the door. She did not appreciate the compliment but I’m sure she will remember that it bothered me and do it again in the future. I closed the door encasing myself in the small black sudan of torture with my tiny evil genius and raced home to cuddle and watch Finding Nemo. Because that’s what Mommies do. We get over it. Even though sometimes we don’t get the last word.
I poured my heart out into a delicate white cup that sat on a saucer. I tempered it with cream and sugar to sweeten its bitterness. But it made me grimace when I tasted it so I spit it back into the cup. And dumped the remains down the drain.
Now my heart needs a refill. It needs something more palatable this time…more soulfully edible. My heart is ravenously hungry for something delicious…something savory and sweet…like chocolate.
Yes, my heart needs this unctuously dark and mysterious treat. Something it will not tire of easily but desire little by little every day. A nibble on Tuesday…a sip on Thursday…a spoonful on Sunday until it’s sated. Which will be never.
As usual my daughter did not want to go to bed last night. She complained of things hurting. She needed water. She needed to go to the bathroom. It was a seemingly never ending barrage of requests and complaints that continued to frustrate me to no end. Then I lost my cool. I yelled for her to JUST GET IN BED…NO MORE ANYTHING! She sulked and returned to her room apparently defeated. Then as if she know exactly what would make my achilles snap she shouted from her room, “I want my daddy! Where’s my daddy?” The words crowded in my chest and inhibited my lungs from inflating.
I could not believe she just said that. It was an absolute nightmare. I have dreaded the daddy discussion from the moment the door hit him in the ass as he was running out of it. I had no idea that it would come so soon. I imagined that in her teen years she would sour of me and in a heated rage tell me she wanted to go live with her father or something like that. A response to this I have planned and ready in my holster. But not for her three year old request for her daddy.
I bawled almost immediately out of frustration with her and that I have to tell her that her father is a ghost. She heard me and crept down the hall asking repeatedly, “What’s the matter mommy?” To which I could only respond by requesting that she get back in bed. But she was relentless. She was concerned. I wanted to tell her I am upset because your father is an asshole and a loser. And you deserve someone so much better than him because he is selfish and no good for anyone including himself. But those words are reserved for her teenage years.
Instead I escorted her back to bed and told her that she did not have a daddy. I told her that I was both mommy and daddy because her daddy could not be a good daddy. I told her that it’s just mommy. Mommy is the one that takes care of you. And I will be here for you forever. She said, “okay” in her tiniest voice.
I am not sure she understood what I was saying. I am sure that it won’t be the last time she requests her daddy…the phantom. I know my skin should be thicker. And I will work to be stronger. It is enough that he broke my heart. I can’t let him break hers too.
Sliding down the mountainside in the dark proved to be a painstaking task. The darkness seemed even more black in the trees. Their movements were slow and methodical. They groped for trees and branches to stabilize themselves before moving on. Lisa led the way. Amy began to wince aloud because of her leg.
“Can you see the end yet?” Amy asked.
“No, not yet. But I can hardly see anything.” Lisa replied.
Amy stopped and began to sob. Lisa stopped. ”Amy, we have to keep moving.” She said rather annoyed.
“How can you not be crying right now. This is awful. Why is this happening?”
“I don’t know.” Lisa answered. She wanted to cry too. She wanted to sit and sob for hours. She repeatedly pushed the image of Rick’s lifeless face from her mind to keep herself sane. If she for one moment let the reality of the situation sink in she would lose it.
“Lisa, I’m scared…I’m terrified.” Amy added.
“I know babe. We have to work hard to get out of here…together. When we are safe and warm we can sit and bawl our fucking brains out. But right now we need to use everything we have to survive.” Lisa’s logic was sound and Amy was ready to move again. Then they heard it.
It was the sound of a motor…like a jeep or maybe something smaller. They strained their eyes through the blackness to see where the sound was coming from. They saw nothing. But it was getting louder. They were frozen with terror and not sure which way was safe. The sound was growing closer but still no lights or movement was detectable in the darkness.
The sound began to wane. It was moving away again.
“They must be heading down the switchback.” Lisa whispered almost silently.
“I just pissed my pants.” Amy announced.
“Awww girl. Let’s go home.”
They started moving again. This time a little faster. Knowing that their stalkers were this close lit a fire. They were moving with purpose. Even though they were still unsure of where they would end up or what would be waiting for them.
I was trying to write something but fell asleep and woke up to a page of this: ddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddd
I’m going to call it. I’m done.
The dragging stopped. Kevin realized he was outside. The sound of music filled the air. He was more puzzled than ever. His vision was creeping back slowly and he made out two lumbering figures nearby. They were slumped over something. He could barely speak but his throat let out an arid, “Help”. He rolled onto his side and attempted to stand. He heard laughter.
He was grabbed by the shoulders and yanked to his feet. He could see his captors more clearly now. They looked like the two men he had yelled hello to at the lake and later saw walking up river. ”I knew you fuckers were no good,” he barely mumbled. Kevin felt a sudden sharp pain travel up his leg when one of the two grisly men shoved a boot into his gash. Kevin nearly collapsed but the two men steadied him while they laughed.
They unbound Kevin’s hands only to retie them. This time he was being lashed to a tree. His arms were stretched behind him. He cried out in pain as his legs were bound, splayed and tied to the tree. As he started to protest a grimy rag was shoved into his mouth. There was rope around his entire body. His wriggling and writhing was useless. Finally he was blindfolded. His heart raced.
Someone was approaching. He heard other voices. They seemed like younger men than the two that dragged him out of his dirt cell. Kevin strained to hear but the music playing made it difficult to make things out. He heard the phrase ‘on the move again’ and the word ‘taps’ or maybe it was ‘traps’. He couldn’t be sure. The damn music was just loud enough to obscure the conversation.
The two men approached Kevin strapped to the tree. ”What are we gonna do with him?” one asked.
“Well, the hole is dug. Throw him in. We got some rabbits to hunt,” the other replied. ”Too bad though. I would a like to seen this one squirm,” he continued leaning in close to Kevin’s face. Kevin shuddered.
They cut him down and removed the rag from his mouth and the blindfold and his hands rebound in front of him. Kevin was confused. They walked him further into the woods. He didn’t scream for help remembering what happened when he opened his mouth the last time. He limped quietly with a man on each arm about 300 yards from where they were until they reached their destination. A whole about five or six feet deep and a couple feet wide awaited Kevin. He began to squirm and protest. He pleaded, “I won’t say anything to anyone about this…about you…Please!”
He was marched right to the edge and kicked from behind. Kevin landed in the hole with a thud and a groan. The pain in his leg shot through his whole body like lightning and he felt blood begin to run from his nose. Dirt hit him in the face. Then it hit him on his legs. He felt rocks hit his body. He screamed, “Nooooo!” But it did not stop the dirt from falling. Kevin was frenzied. He was being buried alive. It was not long before he was completely covered. He could still hear the earth being thrown upon him.
With every breath dirt filled his mouth and nose. He started choking. There was nothing he could do. He tried cupping his hands in front of his face but it did not stop the soil from being inhaled. It wouldn’t be long before his lungs would fill with dirt. He started choking again.
IT’S COMING…I GOT STUCK BUT I WORKED IT OUT LAST NIGHT. SHOULD BE UP BY MIDNIGHT! BUSY DAY TODAY…MY GIRL’S B-DAY!
The need to have good conversation with ease overwhelms me. Painfully drawn out words followed by awkward silence are the order of the day. It saddens me. Where are the confessions and professions? What’s happened to coffee and cigarettes and midnight ramblings followed by omelets and more coffee?
Eyes burned by the sunrise squinting and smiling. Desires interwoven with words and stares and glances and smirks and giggles. Where is imagination? Where is the how do you do? Getting to know someone does not include asking about how big their tits are or if they like their mouth fucked. Even if the answers are big and often does that make you want to get to know me? Does it make you want to know what my desires and fears are as a human being? No, it makes you want to get to know my tits and my mouth. Well they are grounded and can’t come out to play.
Deep to the core my values are old-fashioned however forthcoming I may be. My wont is to volley words…pass them back and forth until the game meets matchpoint. Then and only then can you advance to the next round. You can’t just skip to the victory lap! You can’t just walk up and claim your prize when you have not even played the game!
I’m tired. It’s 5am and my metaphors are shit. My lyricism is half past dead. But my cynicism is brewing with the morning coffee. I will sip slowly and in it dunk a big dry hunk of my disintegrating desires and choke them down. Mmmm…the breakfast of failed champions.
Lisa sat and listened straining to hear any sounds of movement. The music would definitely drown out any sounds of pursuers. If she wasn’t sure before she was certain now…they were being hunted.
She crammed the flashlight into her pocket and slid on her backpack. She sat and waited for both her eyes to adjust to the darkness and an overwhelming surge of courage to propel her down this slope. Her sight came first. The courage however dripped in more than overcame. She knew what she had to do. She had better start doing it.
Slowly and steadily she began to scoot down the steep hill. Using her hands and feet she grabbed onto trees and used them as footstops to keep her from careening downhill. She called out, “Amy!”
“Right here!” Amy replied.
Lisa could not see her but she sounded closer. She kept moving. The darkness was the only thing keeping her from having an all out panic attack. Inching her way down the slope was painstaking enough and she wondered how on earth they were going to climb back up. She called out to her friend again this time not as loud, “Amy.”
“Over here!” Amy barely shouted.
This time she sounded very close. She dug out the flashlight and scanned the area. There she was just a few feet to her right. Amy was now sitting facing uphill with her back against a tree. She looked beat up. Now with the light on Lisa noticed the steep grade of the slope and how far down she had come and began to panic. She quickly switched off the light and closed her eyes. Her heart pounded out of her chest and her legs were numb. Her breath was sporadic.
The music stopped. Her panting was loud. She tried to calm herself and slow down her breath. She heard Amy calling her name but could not respond yet. She could only let out a long slow, “Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.”
The moment was passing. The panic was subsiding. She opened her eyes. She was still for a few minutes. Then she started clawing her way over to Amy. It was a more difficult task than sliding down the mountain. Moving laterally was a challenge. She groped with her hand and foot. When she found something secure she dragged herself over. It took several minutes to reach her friend who was only a few feet away.
“Oh my God! Thank you! You are so brave!” Amy spilled compliments all over Lisa like a proud mother.
“Okay…Okay. Let’s get down to business here. We haven’t got a whole lot of time. We have to move.” Lisa said hurriedly. ”Here hold this,” she handed Amy the flashlight. ”Point this at the wound on your leg then turn it on. Don’t look at it…close your eyes,” Lisa added.
Amy did as she was instructed. Lisa inspected the gash. It was deep and jagged like it had caught a sharp rock on the way down. She fished around in her pack and pulled out a bottle of water to rinse the leaves and mud away. Amy winced. She pulled out an old tee-shirt and Rick’s Swiss Army knife. She cut and ripped the shirt into three pieces. One she wrapped tightly around Amy’s leg. The other she doused with water and told Amy to clean the cut on her head and wash her face and the third she put back into the pack. She snatched the flashlight back from Amy, switched it off and shoved it back into her pocket.
“You’re like a fucking girl scout,” Amy joked.
“I am a fucking girl scout,” Lisa said dryly.
Just then a sound rang out in the distance. ”Suuuuuueeeeeyyyyyyyy!” Someone shouted into the darkness.
The girls collectively stopped breathing for a moment. They listened. There was no movement.
“We have to move now.” Lisa insisted.
“What do they want from us?” Amy whined.
“Nothing good. Come on. We are leaving this place. Let’s go.” Lisa was already on her way.
“Where are you going?” Amy asked noticing her friend was moving in the opposite direction she had expected.
“Down. This will level out eventually when it gets to the river.” Lisa added.
“You think it’s a good idea to get off the trail? We don’t know where we are.” Amy said almost scolding.
“We can’t climb up. It will take too long. And by the time we get there those creeps will be waiting for us. We know the river is at the bottom of this slope. That’s all we have.” Lisa pleaded.
“Okay,” Amy reluctantly agreed.
The two girls began there slow and steady descent into the thick darkness.