Contemplating Eternity

Then at the end of the tunnel the light dimmed down and the trumpets faded. No need to steady my breathing at this point. The only logical conclusion was that death was eminent and no one would survive.

I leaned forward to get a better look but the tunnel would not allow it. The closer I got to the edge the stronger the pull. Like gravity on a planet too close to the sun; I could feel it crushing my bones.

I wasn't ready to go through just yet. Though part of me was curious about the world on the other side. Were they right? Was it over populated with angels? Or did they get it wrong and it was over run by demons? Was the life I left, the closest to heaven I would ever be? It sure felt like it at this point. Trapped in this limbo, trying to decide whether I stayed or whether I proceeded with caution.

"Personally, I don't believe in hell." Rodney said to me once. "'I believe hell is something you carry around with you. Not somewhere you go.'" He constantly quoted Gaiman,  an attempt to seem intellectual. That statement in particular started a pretty heated debate between he and my Aunt Ruby.

"How could there be salvation from damnation of hell if we're carrying it with us everyday?"

"What do you think self-help books are for? Or therapy? Or addiction counseling?" The Chess match continued.

I sit here now, in this metaphor, positioned between the then and there, and I ponder Rodney's statement. I roll it between the grooves of my brain and consider the possibility. If I've been living with hell inside me everywhere I go, then what's at the end of the tunnel can't be that bad.

I stand, arch my back and press my way through the light. I inhale deeply because it almost feels like I'm suffocated by the pressure. Finally all of my efforts are rewarded and I emerge to the other side surrounded ....surrounded by more light...and heat...

Poetry is flowing from me like water...

"The most confused we ever get is when we're trying to convince our heads of something our heart knows is a lie." --Faefever Karen Marie Moning

#1
I fear this heart will explode
In moments you will see what I am made of
with my hurt lying on the floor.
You'll know where my soul has been
Lost in the wilderness of maturation and an aching need to be whole

What if he died?
What if he's gone forever?
What if he does not see
the pain as it spills to my knees from the hole in my chest to the toes of his feet?

Have I met him yet?
How will I know?
Will his pain throb with mine?
In a single beat with mine?
Or am I meant to be one of the greats
in a lonely sea of endless poetic prose and verse
"Suffer for your art and such. For your
wounds are not self-inflicted but genuine
and overwhelming."

"I see your beauty!
And you are beautiful!
Write your heart plain
 on this page and know
your agony is not in vain.
I will heal you make you whole.
Just be patient."

He says these things and walks away.
And I continue to bleed
From the hole in my chest
Where my heart use to be.


#2
I love the way you sneak back in
With concern and a offer of help
I will not be fooled
I cannot be fooled
Seriously I cannot go through this again

Thank you but no!
And you can take that check to the bank.
Endorsed to your account.
And you can place a hold on that amount.

Because I'll never be your fool again.

A Free-written rant that may offend but I hope it enlightens...

Sometimes I wonder about my life and the way I’m living. Other times I don’t.  I see myself at crossroads and jagged cliffs and I wonder how I’ve found my way there. Other times I dismiss the curiosity and proceed, now-a-days with caution, but formerly head first and with little consideration in the matter. There are times when I sit, legs crossed and my back against the wall, sometimes my head leaned back resting, holding me up, other times with my chin pointed at my chest and head parallel to the floor. More often than not, there are tears of salt and misery escaping from my eyes other times, and this is true more now than ever, there are not; however when there are, anymore, they rain less and less.

Back in the day I use to black out. Not just from an over indulgence in alcohol but from rage so blinding my body would shake, my mind would blank, and my frustrations, fears, and concerns would pour from me in a volcanic explosion of sulfuric magma. I was an angry soul trapped in a vessel too weak and limited to contain this emotion. I could not do the things I needed to do. I could not say the things I needed to say. I could not be the person I needed to be. The worst part was I could never figure out why. Why can’t I do the things I truly want? Why can’t I say the things I want to say? Why is it I can’t quite reach the finish-line and be the person I want to be…or everyone expect me to be…or that I was destined to be…or that God has envisioned me to be? I thought there was strength in reservation, restraint, in hiding your emotions deep in the pit of yourself, in a box with a chain and a lock. But soon found out that box is only locked for a time; A time such as it is overflowing with so much frustration, fear, concern, rage, confusion that it burst into flames, expelling its contents into the air, leaving you to “pick up the pieces.”

I used to think my parents were to blame for why I could never be all those things. I was wrong. I could easily blame society for holding me back but that would be a horrible misconception as well. I could cry that whoever I was dating at the time was the reason I had failed so completely, “I’m too busy worrying about his shit to focus, clear-headedly, on my goals;” lies to the pit and core of my soul. Though they are to blame in part, the only person to blame for my short comings is the person typing these words. I was a limited, single-minded being. I saw only whatI desired and then expected it all to manifest from thin air no effort required. Nothing could be anymore poisonous to a person than the pure unaltered condition of entitlement. But then I saw myself, like a mirror, in others. I’m not quite sure when I changed. I suspect it was gradually. I know for damn sure I’m not done. This evolution is finite but the end is light years away. I ascertained this revelation occurred somewhere between November and December of 2012. And my life’s experiences continue to build upon it.

I started this free write with the intention to rant about how far removed I am from the people around me. I feel like in my small group of friends I have found individuals who think on the same plain as I do. We all love a lot of the same things but we all share the same philosophies as well. For example, none of us would belittle another person over something as insignificant as misfired grammar on an irrelevant social media platform in earnest, if we recognized said person was hurting. I just don’t understand how a person could be so unobservant as to only see the minute writing error in a message rather than the whole picture. But I guess there is my answer…they don’t see the whole picture. The people I love do (well for the most part)! We see life, and all its parts, and how important certain things are versus others, and we choose our battles accordingly. We are wise beyond our years not because we sat with our heads in books and studied (though majority of us have) but because we live life and learned from our mistakes, and those of others and have applied them to our current existence. We have grasped the concept of “don’t sweat the small stuff” and apparently everyone else has not.

We have experienced loss on varying levels and not let it defeat us.

This concept baffles me! Why is everyone else not on this same frequency as we are? Why are people so short sighted?

Many may have heard me say that I have lost all hope for humanity. Sometimes I say this in jest but for the most part, this is the truth. It is not me being dramatic. It is very true. I have. It’s only in small glances that I think humanity is salvageable but there just aren’t enough people like myself, and my group of friends, to fix this mess. ::: small case of déjà vu:::

I’m sorry this free write is so negative. I’ve just been in a peculiar head space recently.  There has been a major and abrupt change in my life and once again I am going to have to evolve and adapt (though I really don’t want to). I feel this shift may be devastating to me in which case, I may have to retreat within for a while. Hopefully, everything will work out and hopefully those measures will not be necessary. 

A Tale Not Yet Titled Chapter 3

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Though the setting and some businesses are based on actual places, names, characters, and events are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. I promise ; )

Being me can only mean
Feeling scared to breathe
If you leave me then I’ll be afraid of everything
That makes me anxious, gives me patience, calms me down
Lets me face this, let me sleep, and when I wake up
Let me be

--Afraid by The Neighbourhood

(Saturday, June 22, 2012 11:30pm    The Present….)

I had protested the idea of going out but Casey and Trent insisted, in that order. All I wanted to do was sit at home in my room, with my music blaring, the door sealed tight, and my laptop buzzing on my lap. I had plenty of work that needed to be completed. With Donna on maternity leave and Marna at a publisher’s convention in New York City, there was more than enough overflow I could take care of in a quiet evening home, with a glass of red wine, and The Neighbourhood serenading my otherwise stress filled mind to ease. Instead I stood partially clothed in front of my full body mirror swinging and tapping against the door of my room as Trent stomped past it in the hallway.

“Are you kidding me? I’m not taking fashion advice from you! You’re not going to help me get laid tonight! And you don’t have to wear my clothes. So your opinion doesn’t matter!” Casey had ever so subtly, in her typical Casey way, suggested that Trent’s outfit was tacky and, in some roundabout way, offensive to women and the feminist movement. “You’re fucking insane!”

“All I’m saying is by wearing that tight ass thermal you’re inadvertently calling every woman you encounter a slutty whore.” Her point was ridiculous. “I mean look at those graphics, swirly, curvy cursive taunting that you’re ‘addictive’ surrounded by roses and skulls? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” Her inflection implied personal insult. “Are you going to top off your outfit with a beaning that says ‘Affliction’ and approach every girl saying ‘Yo ma’ what’s good?’”  I rolled my eyes as I turned up my music to drown them out, but not before I heard Trent reply.

“You’re a psychopath. I hope your uterus falls out!” My mirror continued to tap as Trent stormed down the stairs and, I can only assume, into the basement far away from Casey’s judgmental absurdity.

I finally decided on a simple outfit: blue super skinny jeans with black toms, a black oversized graphic tee that hung strategically off of my tattooed shoulder. My hair was a mess of ebony curls and I wasn’t in the mood to tackle them, so I grabbed my large knit beany and pulled it down over my head. I positioned it far enough from my forehead that some of my curls fell naturally in front of my eyes. My eye makeup had survived the morning and afternoon, and we were only going to the P.O.P.E. on East Passyunk so lipstick was not necessary. I rolled some Eos over my full lips, slipped my favorite silver vintage ring on my right middle finger, threw my purse over my head, and pushed open my door.

Casey was on the other side leaning up against the far wall chatting on her phone. She gave me a look that screamed it’s about time and proceeded down the steps. Before I followed her I took a detour into her room and grabbed my favorite of her necklaces off her jewelry stand. I put it on. The shimmering clear stones dangled near my breast and topped off my “I’m fashionably trying to not be fashionable” look. She nodded with approval once we reached the bottom of the stairs, her phone still pressed to her ear. Trent was already in the car waiting for us. He was frighteningly good at predicting when we were ready for things and just dealing with us in general. Well at least dealing with me. Moments later we were speeding off toward Passyunk and a night I was already wishing was over.

***

The P.O.P.E. was packed, shoulder to shoulder with spree twenty-somethings waiting impatiently for their craft beers and vegan burgers. I pushed pass two rather beefy hipsters, clad in plaid and sporting hefty beards. Gone were the days when beards were mutually exclusive to burly mountain men and metal heads.  I let out a disappointed sigh.

Casey gripped my hand as she pulled me toward the back of the bar. I politely excused us to every person she nearly knocked on their heels. Trent and his buddy Doug were not far behind me scanning the room from left to right for the one thing they treasured more than American muscle cars and, well, craft beer – vagina. I let out a relieved breath when Casey finally found a vacant table nestled in the corner of the main eating area, close enough to the bar but far enough away that we didn’t have to overhear failed pick-up lines and polite rejections.

“Yeesh! I thought we were never going to find a table,” Trent voiced as he slipped in the chair next to me. Casey had nonchalantly parked her derriere in the seat next to Doug, skillfully nudging her chair closer to him as she scooted it closer to the table. I gave her a slanted smile and an accusatory glance as she lifted her eyes from the table top to meet mine.

What the hell are you doing?  I said to her with my eyes.

Shut up! She replied. Enough said.

“This is a sweet little spot. Can’t believe I never knew it was here!” Doug was one of Trent’s college buddies. They had numerous classes together at Temple University but didn’t really start hanging out until they were forced into a study group, a feeble attempt to pass Chemistry II their second semester of freshman year. Ever since then, they were inseparable. I’d seen Doug a couple times at the Horse on campus before Trent introduced us, Doug’s meager attempt to ask me out. Didn’t happen. Not long after that all three of us started hanging out together and we all got pretty close.

“That’s because you live in the North-East. Be brave brother, come down South every once in a while and you can experience some real culture. Next time we’ll take you to Lucky13!! Food to die for!!”

“Oh yea? How’s the food in this place Lina?” Doug nodded toward me. He looked me straight in the eyes, his blue crystal gaze adoringly searching my face. His bright white smile spread gingerly across his fuzz covered dimples. I swear the shine from his teeth reflected off his earrings, in both ears. It’s not that he was a bad looking guy, or stupid, or anything like that, but he just wasn’t what I was looking for back in those days. And he certainly is not what I need right now.

“It’s pretty good!” I answered with a smile. “Trent and I have this debate all the time: In a bar food standoff, who would prevail victorious, Lucky13 or the P.O.P.E?” I said in my best movie-trailer-voiceover voice. I avoided his eyes by staring at his thick, dirty blonde hair line peeking out from under his black cotton beany hanging dopey from the back of his head. “I lean a little more toward this here gem myself.” I gestured to the walls around us so he got my drift. I loved this bar, almost as much as I loved the Good Dog. It would be a lot better though, if it weren’t for all of the heart wrenching memories it possessed.

Immediately the conversations around me became muted. My mind drifted in and out of images and visions of Wes, Trent, Casey, and I sitting plastered to the bar, downing shots and spewing insults at the television showing cheesing and obnoxious reality TV shows. I closed my eyes as my heart began to pound in my chest and my breathing became shallow. I could feel perspiration forming on my brow and I needed to get away from this table. Like NOW!

“Will you guys excuse me for a moment? I need to use the ladies room.” I opened my eyes to see Doug looking at me worriedly. His eyes asked a very personal question I was not prepared to answer, so I turned my gaze to the amber wood floors and made my way to the basement steps.

“You want me to come with you babe?” Casey called after me. I lifted my hand and waved it from side to side, indicating that I would be okay alone. I could almost see her face in front of mine as I walked away from her. She was concerned too. They all were.

***

The P.O.P.E’s bathroom was exactly what you expected a trendy dive bar bathroom to look like. It was papered with stickers of bands, businesses, and graffitied with sharpie artwork. Another common attribute it possessed was its unrealistic size; it was tiny. Literally the size of a small shoe closet, it had one stall, one sink nudged right next to the outer wall of the stall, and a 1ft by 1ft mirror right above the sink. The hand drying machine was placed inches from the sinks edge and because of this, there was barely any room to turn around and face the door out, let alone lean against the wall and take a few quick breaths in private. Why I thought that would be a suitable escape from the claustrophobia I was developing at our table I have no idea. Once I realized my error I immediately turned around, back up the steps to the first floor. I pressed through the crowd to the bars street exit.

I made it to the moist, mildly warm air of the city without being detected by Trent, Doug, and Casey. The atmosphere still smelled of a summer storm but the rain had slowed to a light drizzle. I turned the corner away from the door way of the bar and leaned against its wall. I bent over with my head slightly above my knees and took deep breaths. Why did I allow memories of Wes to work me up so thoroughly? It had been a few months since the break up and even longer since we had been to this bar together; there was no reason why sitting at a table with friends should upset me so harshly.

I pressed my back against the stone wall and began to inhale air from the sky. My mouth slightly open and my head leaned back I silently chanted to myself, you’re okay! You’re okay!  I imagined being somewhere else, anywhere else. I created a deserted island, palm trees, a clear blue ocean and its subsequent breeze; A grass hut feet from the shore line and an endless supply of tequila and rum. I pictured myself reclining in a beach chair, the sun baking the skin of my abs and legs, an umbrella shading my face. My eyes beneath aviators I dreamt of peace within my dream. No man, no cry! The dream Lina chanted aloud. No man, no cry! My heart, both dream and reality, started to slow and the empty feeling began to pass. I continued to breath deep and imagine this tropical paradise far, far away from everything that plagued me.

“Lina?” The voice violently pulled me from my oasis and back to the damp streets of Philadelphia. The storm had passed but I was soon to find out that I was only in the eye.

I slowly lowered my chin parallel to the side walk and turned my head toward the approaching figure of a man, broad, tall, and dark haired, except for his light colored eyes. His hair had grown out since the last time I saw him. It curled under his earlobes resembling the way it looked in a baby picture I saw of him once at his mother’s.

“I thought that was you. How are you?” His smile was electric. It spread like wildfire across his face. His eyes sparked to attention as they laid gently into mine. There was something different about them though, they looked a little weary. I’m sure I was mistaken. He was never weary not even on his busiest of days. It was probably just the tears forming in mine that obstructed my vision.

My breathing began to shallow again. The edges of his smile slowly started to turn downward as my response grew further and further away. Suddenly I snapped out of whatever trance I was in, put on a smile and answered him.

“Wes! Hey! Wow! I didn’t expect to see you here. How are you?” I tried intently to cover the shaking in my voice. I didn’t want him to know that at any moment my legs were going to turn to mush and I was going to collapse to the pavement.

“I’m great!” he said not very convincingly I noticed. “You?”

The shaking in my chest was harder to mask. I wanted to cry out. I wanted to throw my arms around his broad shoulders and press my lips against his thick lips. I wanted his hands tangled in my hair. I wanted his breath against my neck. I needed him inside me sooner rather than later. I needed to feel his chest heaving heavy against mine in exasperation. My mind raced with all these desires when I realized I hadn’t answered him again.

“Fine,” I managed to squeak out. “I’m fine.” He chuckled softly to himself. He always loved when I squeaked. He said it made him feel like a lion dating a mouse, which was the sweetest of contradictions.

The friends who had been following him had made their way inside. He looked after them approvingly. I took that moment to collect myself as I stepped toward him in a brief and unprecedented moment of courage.

“Wes I want you back!” I blurted out. He turned to me with an awe struck look on his face. In his expression I could see his longing. I could see he wanted to comply. I could tell from the way his bottom lip hung open and then moments later snapped against the top that he was conflicted and confused.

“Adelina, don’t do this to me.” His eyes pleaded with mine. I pressed closer to him and he did what I feared most, he stepped back.

“C’mon, it will be better I promise. I’ll be better I swear.” I pleaded with him. I didn’t care who could hear. I wanted him back so badly I craved it. “Please.”

His face was apologetic. He knew he could end my torture by simply taking me in his arms and whispering in my ear the three words I wanted, yes of course. But he wouldn’t do it. When he left he told me this had to be. That he was doing this for us and I would be better off when it was all said and done. I didn’t believe him then and I don’t believe this memory of it now. I needed him like air. This was a cruel punishment.

“Adelina, you know we can’t be together. We’re just not right. I’m not right. I need this time to figure out what to do with myself. I’m all over the place and confused. You deserve so much more than that. You’re a beautiful and intelligent woman and you’re going to find someone who treats you like a goddess. Trust me. You don’t want me back.” He didn’t wait for my reply. Even if I could say anything it would have caught in my throat and choked me to death.

He pressed a sweet, soft kiss to my forehead and disappeared into the bar. I stood, frozen on the sidewalk outside the P.O.P.E. lost and confused as to what to do next. I was in physical pain fighting off the tears threatening to run down my face. My chest was at my feet and my vision was blurry. I inadvertently put my arm in the air as a taxi splashed down the street.

“320 Fawn St. please. Washington square.”

I didn’t think the whole way to the house. All I could manage was to pull my phone from my purse and text Trent, letting him know that I had caught a cab back to the house and not to bother me when they came home. I tried to go back to my tropic getaway in my head, but every time I closed my eyes all I saw were Wes and his apologetic eyes. I couldn’t hear the ocean. All I could manage was the faint sound of his voice telling me it was better this way. I tried to breath deep but my chest wouldn’t allow it.

Finally in the house, and finally in my room, I dropped my purse to the ground, where it landed was anybody’s guess. I pulled my shirt over my head and let my jeans drop to my feet. I was in total darkness aside from the moon beaming through my window. I slipped my shoes off and left them underneath my jeans and shirt on the floor. I unlatched my bra and let that fall as well.

I caught my reflection in the mirror over my dresser as I walked robotically to my bed. I meant to hide there until Wes changed his mind or the Apocalypse ensued. I held my breath for neither. My heart did skip a beat though, when I saw how unnaturally pale I looked. My golden skin was faded and my green eyes looked sickly. The only things that indicated I was alive were my breast, perky and round, nipples erect, and pointed toward my reflection, their typical response to Wes being in close proximity. My eyes traveled down my lean abs and toward my panties, they weren’t soaked but if that conversation was any longer, regardless of the topic, that would have been next; A tell-tale response to his voice. I pulled them off as well revealing the short trimmed fuzz covering my mound of sexual desire throbbing painfully for his touch.

I made my way to my bed. I could no longer stand the look of me and I just wanted to be done with this evening. I covered myself up with my blanket and tried again to go back to that tropical escape I created earlier. I finally fell asleep an hour or so later, still ignoring the buzzing of my cell phone coming persistently from my purse strewn carelessly on the floor. It had been ringing out to me since I walked over the threshold of our home. Don’t bother me!  I said in a low and exhausted voice over and over until I was no longer conscious.

The Day the Music Stopped

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Events are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental...sort of ; ) Though you can rest assured this is not a premonition. 

            I’m sure you are terrified to hear of this news. I was devastated as well. It was a travesty to many really. But trust me there was a warning sign, though no one took notice. Not many even realized how harshly they would be affected until it actually happened. You know how people are? Uninterested, unaware, unconcerned until they are face to face with the tragedy, head on, full speed ahead, and no way to save themselves or their loved ones.

            It all started with a pop and a bang.

The silence was deafening. I’m sure you’ve heard it described that way.

No one really noticed it at first. Everyone just lived their lives, chatting away.

It was at least 5 minutes before the first person acknowledged the silence. His brain literally stopped processing the words of the beautiful woman sitting across from him. The smile on her face no longer distracted him from the metropolis blooming around their conversation. As intriguing as it was, he couldn’t help but realize the soundtrack had stopped.

“What just happened?” he remarked to the woman.

“What do you mean?” she replied, baffled by his question.

“Do you hear that?” he said turning in his chair, searching the surroundings of the outdoor eating area where they were seated. No one else seemed to be reacting though the silence was profound.

“I’m not sure I understand what you’re referring to?” Concern began to appear on her face as she watched her lunch buddy begin to develop a mild case of panic. He swiveled in his chair numerous times before twisting his body completely and staring wide eyed at the small tavern across the street. Her anxiety started to swell the more he began to panic and about something she did not understand entirely. This was hardly the behavior you wanted to see on a first date. And he was so handsome too.

“You seriously don’t notice that there is absolute silence?” He nearly yelled it at her.

“But there isn’t! People are talking, cars are driving and honking. Kids are screaming. I don’t understand what you mean.”

His frustration grew immensely. How could she not hear that silence? How could she not hear that intense boom and then nothing?

“That’s just aimless noise!” He argued. He looked to his right at a man in a car, viciously pressing buttons on his cars dashboard stereo. Then to his left he noticed a young lady, who for most of her meal had been sitting alone, listening to her iPod. She was now frantically tapping the screen, checking the chord of her ear buds, clearly annoyed.

By this point his breathing had quickened and the panic was setting in. He barely realized he had been gripping the end of the table until he abruptly stood up. He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and tossed a couple twenties on the table. The beautiful woman, who, until this point in their afternoon, had been enthralled with the man, looked at the money with pure bewilderment.

“I don’t think this is going to work out,” He said to her as he swiped the unlock code into his phone. He tapped at the number screen and growled when the voicemail picked up. The sleeve of his blazer jacked nearly hit her in the face as he raced toward the low gate bordering the eating area that separated them from the sidewalk traffic. He bound over the gate and ran across the street.

***

“Gary!” He screamed at the thick wooden door of the bar. “Gary open up dude, it’s an emergency.” Pain throbbed through his hand as he pounded on the wooden pane of the door’s porthole window. He paced back and forth, peering into the large wall-sized retractable window next to the door.

            Finally the door flew open. A tall, lean man stood in the doorway. His face was distraught and identical panic radiated in his eyes.

            “Ethan! Get your ass in here man. This shit is fucking strange!!” Finally!! He knew he wasn’t crazy. Gary heard it too.

            “Erik and I were in the middle of setting up for your gig tonight, literally testing the equipment, when right in the middle, BOOM, and then nothing worked.” Gary’s face was defeated. He had no idea what to do or what to think. The whole situation was baffling.

            “I heard it too!! NOTHING is working?”

            “I’m not totally sure man. Everything is on! Everything is plugged in. You can hear the hum of the speakers working but nothing is coming out.”

            “Where’s Erik?”

            “He’s on the second floor trying to see if it’s just this stage or the other one.” As if summoned by a sixth sense, Erik appeared through the “staff only” door connecting the main bar area to back stage, both of his hands were tangled in his shoulder length hair and gripping tight. His lips pressed shut he looked at his comrades with a face of pure disbelief.

            “In all my years in this scene, I have never experienced anything like this. Watch this shit.” He climbed up on the stage in front of them, he took the vocal mic in his hand, illustrating it was plugged in and on.

            “Testing, Testing. Can you hear me?” The two men watching in front of the stage moved their heads up and down in a quick nod. Erik held up a finger, instructing them to wait, and then opened his mouth as if to sing, but nothing came out.

            “What the hell?” Gary reacted. Ethan ran up on stage and grabbed the mic from Erik. Cupping it in his hands he proceeded to growl into it but no sound resulted.

            “And watch this.” Erik walked over to the drum kit sitting at the back of the stage.  He clinched both sticks in his hands and began to play. Nothing. Though it was clear he was playing there was no sound.

Gary and Ethan instantly walked over to the bass and guitar hanging on the walls. They vigorously plugged them into the amps humming on the stage. Just as with the mic and the drum set nothing came through the amps.

            Ethan could barely handle the reality of what this meant. As his fingers flew up and down the neck of the guitar in hand, the room began to spin. He could barely focus. Nothing! Not a note! Not a wail! Not a thing came through the amp. Further you couldn’t even hear the weak plinks and plunks of the guitar strings, that slight unplugged tone that whispered from an electric guitar not yet amplified, was nowhere to be found as well. He had heard rumors on Facebook of something happening to this effect but it was Facebook those conspiracies never really happened.

            “I wonder!” Gary yelled as he jumped from the stage and ran toward the sound board. He accessed the iTunes library saved on his iPad, nothing. He turned on Pandora radio, nothing. YouTube, nothing. Spotify, nothing. There was no music what so ever, at all, coming from anywhere. It was totally silent.

            As Gary searched for air in the space between his knees, Erik walked behind the bar.  He grabbed the bottle of Jack Daniels and three plastic cups. His breathing was staggered as he handed each man their cup filled half way to the brim. They stared at each other defeated and weary for what felt like eternity before they brought the cups to their lips to drown their disbelief in the hot sting of whiskey. At that moment every television in the bar flicked on.

 “My fellow citizens of Earth,” The man on the television screen was not the President of the United States. In fact none of our three musicians had ever seen this man before.

“My name is Chancellor Harold Barker. I am one thirteenth of a committee now charged with governing our great planet-nation.” His voice was not that of a typical politician though his image was indeed. His shoulders took up majority of the television screen and his jaw line was square and strong. His eyes tore straight through to the center of your being and even though his voice was small, it was steady. You recognized his authority immediately.

“By now you may have realized that all music, both live and recorded, is missing from your everyday existence. This is not a freak occurrence nor is it an accident. After years of observing the activities and actions of the people of this great planet, we have decided that, in the interest of your safety and the safety and well-being of everyone residing here, it was necessary for us to remove all existence of music from you. Now please don’t be alarmed. Life will proceed as usual. No other laws or freedoms will be taken from you but the playing of, and listening to, music will no longer be tolerated.

We are undoubtedly certain, even now that I address you, that hackers and music enthusiast are joining forces to try and find a way to reverse  our efforts to keep you safe from harm. Please cease all attempts. Legislation is being drafted right now to help govern the illegal creation, distribution, and involvement in music of any kind.  I assure you the consequences for violating these laws will be severe.

We know that in a short period of time you all will begin to see things our way. You will recognize the peace that will flow from our communities once you adapt to life without music. We assure you this decision was not come to lightly. We have been debating this action for many years and have finally agreed upon its administration.

We wish you all the best. Good night and God bless.”

The screens in the bar went dark and so did the air in the room. The men stood motionless staring at the television, whiskey in hand, completely dumbfounded by what they had just heard. Who was this committee? What harm did music bring to mankind? How could they do this? And without consulting the public? How did this happen? 

I could barely breathe moments after I saw the broadcast. Not only did it come across every television and radio station in the world, but it also streamed live through the Internet. I had been working on my latest short story, when the music blaring from my laptop suddenly stopped and that broad figure of a man popped up on my computer screen.

Ethan called me as soon as the broadcast was over. What do we do?  He had said. I had no response for him. I just sat there staring at the static that followed the broadcast. My heart nearly dropped from my chest and I had no clue how to react. But I do now…

So if you are reading this blog you have undoubtedly been invited to the resistance. They start with our privileges. They start with our leisure. Rumor has it all fine art is next to go. We will not allow it. Join us in orchestrating retaliation on this Council of Humanity. Join us in bringing the music back.

~~CLICK HERE TO JOIN~~~

Choose the purest...proceed with caution

“Every object, every being,
is a jar full of delight.

Be a connoisseur,
and taste with caution.

Any wine will get you high.
Judge like a king, and choose the purest,

the ones unadulterated with fear,
or some urgency about ‘what’s needed.’

Drink the wine that moves you
as a camel moves when it’s been untied,
and is just ambling about.”

“The Many Wines” –Rumi

This poem may be addressing a number of different things but for me, first and foremost, it is addressing how important it is to be selective of the people with which you surround yourself.

In my past, even in my recent past, I have been guilty of allowing people in my life who have hurt me in rather elaborate ways, whether intentionally or not. They’ve torn me down mentally and emotionally. They’ve lead me on and left me to wallow never taking a glance back to see the consequences of their actions. I have even had people “discreetly” try to set me up so I would hurt someone I cared for dearly, in order to make them appear to be the more worthy friend between the two of us.

I have discovered since the inception of these situations that I allowed such things to happen. I was not 100% sure of the person I was, confident of what I deserved, or knowledgeable of the manipulation happening around me, manipulation that was used mainly because my self-esteem was down. Since these things have happened I have been made aware that I am worth more than their abuses. I am a person of substance and good company and I deserve better.

To these people I say no more. Be gone from my life so that I may be stress free and focused on people and things that matter most. I don’t have time for your drama, or your judgments; your harsh criticism and your indecision. From now on I will “choose the purest” of people (purest does not mean perfect) and drink the wine that moves me, surround myself with positive, like-minded individuals whose life is moving in a productive and positive direction.

Thank you wholeheartedly to the man who helped me realize what was happening. Who continues to give me the reassurance that I have the power to correct the damage done and keep people like those mentioned from damaging me further. You are truly a loved friend.

Oh Hey ....It's New Years Eve 2013 :)

Excerpt from Not a Day on Any Calendar by Rumi

My Life is not Mine.

If someone were to play music, it would have to be very sweet.

We’re drinking wine, but not through lips.

We’re sleeping it off, but not in bed.

Rub the cup across your forehead.

This day is outside and dying.

Give up wanting what other people have.

That way you’re safe.

“Where, where can I be safe?” you ask.

This is not a day for asking questions,

not a day on any calendar.

This day is conscious of itself.

This day is a lover, bread, and gentleness,

more manifest than saying can say.

Thoughts take form with words,

but this daylight is beyond and before

thinking and imagining. Those two,

they are so thirsty, but this gives smoothness

to water. Their mouths are dry, and they are tired.

The rest of this poem is too blurry

for them to read.

A lot of people are following the typical NYE formula this year: “New Year! New Me!” “This time I’m going to stick to my New Year’s Resolution,” or “I’m going to live for me this year.” As with all the other holidays so far, with the exception of Halloween because I live for that holiday, I am not celebrating New Years this way. I’m not going to partake in resolutions or declarations of change and evolution. I’m actually going to take this year day by day.

To make promises of mass personal overhaul, for me, is absurd. If I’ve learned nothing else this year, I’ve definitely learned that it takes longer than 365 days to “reprogram” over 26 years of, for lack of a better phrase, “fucked up thinking”. I was so hoping after my break up last Christmas, that I was going to emerge a new and improved Devo by June of 2013. That did not happen.

The truth of the matter is I reached that point in the year and realized I still have a lot of shit to work out. I still have a lot of thought processes to reprogram. Rome wasn't built in a day, cliche but true (here’s a little secret I told my teens, a lot of cliches are true. So you should probably stop worrying whether or not they are cliche.). I’m not going to be a better me in the next 365 days but I can assure you I will be better today than I was the day before. All I can hope for is to be happy, healthy, and working toward realistic goals.

So, for the sake of being completely honest with you and myself, here is a list of realistic goals I hope to achieve this coming year:

1. Play more guitar

2. Play more bass

3. Finally take these vocal lessons I paid $100 for

4. Write more often

5. Exceed my total of  17 books read in 2013 by reading 19 books in 2014

6. Take my profession more seriously and obtain a job at a University or Charter/Private school

7. Smile more.

8. Think/Act more positively

9. Love more things, more often.

10. Be nicer to my mom.

11. Hang out with my siblings more.

12. finish my left arm tattoos

13. Take a hip-hop dance class (probably closer to the end of the year)

14. Fall in love (Whatever that means)

What do you think, pretty realistic?

So why the poem at the beginning of the post. I chose that poem, mostly because I wanted you all to think something profound and enlightening was going to follow it. haha You tell me if I was successful? The other reason I chose that poem is because of the second stanza “Give up wanting..” and the last stanza “The rest of this poem is too blurry to read.” I want to challenge all of my friends and family to give up wanting what others have and truly be happy with the blessings bestowed upon you. There is more to life than material things and desire. Cherish what you have already and then watch the things you want manifest before your eyes. Also I want you all to get so drunk with me tonight that the rest of any poem just looks like a giant blur. Love you all, Happy New Year!!!