tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-74813006937761882632024-03-14T03:55:41.270-04:00Nik's stories and other such stuffUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger15125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7481300693776188263.post-68101576907244805532015-05-10T15:51:00.001-04:002015-05-10T15:51:46.441-04:00Ironically Illuminating: A Meditation on the Dark Arts<p dir="ltr">Ya got light and ya got dark. You got black and you got white. The only difference is contrast, wouldn't you suppose? Between what is dark and light to that which is black and white? </p>
<p dir="ltr">So I've seen most of the Harry Potter movies. I will admit it. Yes, I have a sense of the supernatural, magical and extraordinary despite some of my beliefs that may contradict that, but I like to think of myself as an explorer, a pioneer, sorta integrating different ideas and philosophies about life and fashioning them into my own light or point of focus. Sort of like a fashion designer would be with articles of clothing, only I do it as an existential fashion designer of sorts. I design my own outlook towards life shedding light and both casting a shadow, making light of things and making dark of things; sorta my specialty for anyone who knows me best. </p>
<p dir="ltr">With that rationalization, I don't think any one thinking on life is right or wrong, good or bad, wise or unwise, up or down. I just think. 'Tis all. What can I say other than that I enjoy the "new". I like to be surprised and to surprise; but that's beyond the scope of the point I wish to illustrate; so, moving on... </p>
<p dir="ltr">What are the "dark arts" as some would coin it? In the movie I referenced above I interpret it as a practice towards a thinking and, therefore, an action that is serious but could also be humourous but, most times, just serious, however, most importantly, NOT NECESSARILY BAD or EVIL. That is how I interpret the dark arts but it is not the only way.... </p>
<p dir="ltr">In all seriousness, stay with me, I digress only but a bit further and will return to my point...</p>
<p dir="ltr">—We immediately take something like an "unfriending" in the facebook world to mean that much. And, with the tremendous growth of social media we are placing new values on digital communication or the “disconnected-connected communication”. The facebook unfriend will probably be equal if not more weighted than what an unfriending in the “real” world may mean (I wrote this meditation a few years ago, so things might have changed)...</p>
<p dir="ltr">Moreover, and I'm getting closer to my point — we have our reasons for being spiteful. We also have our reasons for regretting our spite and our reasons for reveling in it. Hey, I like to be as spiteful as the next person, but I also gravely consider where that may be coming from. For me, I think, in the end — would I want someone to go to the grave with this? if the answer is yes, I say it and if no then I don't. But, in the serious end, being grave is a dark art. It shows an appreciation towards light and therefore casts some light on the dark thusly illuminating the subject and making it more understandable and appreciable. In short, practicing the "dark arts" can have "grave" consequences and rightly so, all our actions do.</p>
<p dir="ltr">—We are evolutionizing new standards of communication and placing new values on those methods. (Talk to me years ago and I may not have even seen this coming.)—</p>
<p dir="ltr">So, what is my point? Good question. I always seem to avoid those things. They hurt. I don’t like to get stuck on the sharp ones. In fact, I don't think anyone would like that…</p>
<p dir="ltr">The point is this: Practicing the dark arts doesn’t have to appear to be so dark. Making light of a dark matter is really a light hearted practice in-and-of itself. And so with contrast comes great responsibility ‘cause then things are neither right nor wrong—just interpretable, open to interpretation, just not final in meaning. </p>
<p dir="ltr">After all, there are only two ends of the spectrum to black and white thinking whereas there are many shades of gray, and, for some, there's 50...So why be black and white when there's always more to grey?</p>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7481300693776188263.post-81622712270155034742015-03-24T10:41:00.001-04:002015-05-30T15:16:32.384-04:00Coffee Shop Confessions: "Briefly Meeting"<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And I see
you. Your eyes grow wide. They pull.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You
lend a smile, but it's quickly erased. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I tilt my head, squint my eyes, and the
corners of my mouth lift.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I pour the coffee. I add a little cream, and stir. While I do, my eyes look down and away, and you look at me. You don't think I see. I don't. I feel. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I finish
making my coffee and </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">walk away, but you blurt, "Have a good day!"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I pause for
a moment, mid-step, turn around and say, "Thank you, you too." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I walk towards the register. I can still feel your pull.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I pay for
the coffee. I look back. I can't see you, but I know you see me, and...</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7481300693776188263.post-77764351613014644662015-01-04T12:05:00.001-05:002015-01-04T12:05:44.297-05:00Travels<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“So tell me
a story, please…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“It might
not be good but here it goes...”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The alarm
clock goes off<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I roll over
and reach for it<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
*thump*<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I pick
myself up off the floor<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Rubbing my
head<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Then I
manage to turn the damn alarm off<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I go to the
kitchen<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The drying
rack is full<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I scramble
some eggs and pour a glass of orange juice and toast a bagel<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I put cream
cheese on it<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
While the
eggs cool I put the dishes away<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
My roommate
puts his dishes in the sink<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
(the ones
he'll never clean anyway)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I clean all
the dishes regardless of if I'll get to the train on time...<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I get ready,
comb my hair, get my keys, train pass and headphones and I'm out the door by 9:40...<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I hastily
walk, the morning cold is crisp<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Cars rush by
and the music through my ear-buds is soothing...<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I get to the
train station, climb the steps, there's broken glass and a cross that
reads, "he was a <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
good
dog"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I wait for
the train just behind a pole that blocks the sun from my eyes<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
A loud noise
approaches quickly<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The Amtrak
train flies by at 80 mph<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I don't
flinch<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Most would<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
However days
and weeks and months have hardened me to the potential danger a train at that speed
could do<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
In the deep
distance, lights appear<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The train
slowly approaches and the people step closer to the platform<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
It arrives, we get on<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
*swooooosh*<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Another Amtrak
train slightly disturbs the Septa we're boarding<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
We move on, my eyes are closed...<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
*breathe in,
breathe out, do I have my keys, where's my pass, breathe in, breathe out, is my
back pack <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
zipped up?*<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I'm at my
stop, my eyes open and I walk off...<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Immediately
I see a bum sprawled on his back, sleeping or dead, I never know, and I just
press on to catch the bus<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I see it to
the left, at the light, I know if I don't run I'll miss it<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I sprint
towards the stop<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I barely
made it<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I swipe my
pass and – breathe<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
A few
minutes into the ride and the bus stops<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Not for a
passenger but an ambulance<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
It's double
parked and blocking the route<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
We don't
care<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
We wanna get
to our destination<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
God forbid
someone dies and their ambulance blocks our route<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
What
business do people have dying nowadays anyway?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The
ambulance moves and we're on our way<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I see one
bridge<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Two bridges<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I see the
third...<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And there’s Luzerne
Street, and I pull the chord<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
A bell rings
and "stop requested" the placard says<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I mosey
towards the rear door, holding my balance<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I get off<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I go under
the bridge and look back<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
There's
someone behind me<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I don't know
who they are<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I hold onto
a pen in my pocket<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
A blue one<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Made of
recycled plastic<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I hold tight<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
My pen is my
sword...<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The man
disappears behind the cross traffic, and I become calm<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Across the
tracks I get to a coffee shop<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I walk in, get
a cup<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I pay<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The bum
outside didn't ask for change, but I gave him a dollar anyway<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
No response<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
He's
probably better off dead anyway<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I walk
across the street<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Safely I
make it across the four lane Highway<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I cross
paths with a man with shallow eyes who stares me down<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
He knows I
don't belong there<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I continue
on<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I get to
work<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And I go
towards the break room<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I sit<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I breathe<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I sip and...<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Begin my day…<o:p></o:p></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7481300693776188263.post-61488513372988094902014-08-19T23:19:00.000-04:002014-08-20T16:50:44.341-04:00Safe Driving<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Driving and texting is not something that should be done on company time. There were many times when my co-worker would scowl at me when I did this especially when cruising the highway, residential developments, busy city streets. He would say, “Hey, what do you think you are doing? You can’t do that on company time! We’re on the clock!” He was right, we were on the clock, so I stopped being so careless. Now I just text on break -- while driving.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<iframe width="100%" height="150" scrolling="no" frameborder="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/164024470&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&visual=true"></iframe>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7481300693776188263.post-70833165232895186082014-08-17T20:19:00.001-04:002014-08-19T23:37:01.999-04:00Important lesson learned at work<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today man learns his hard work is not less than worth the effort. Here is an account of man’s entire existence…<br /><br />“Been working, years and years. I have slaved and labored. My life has been less than the worth of my work. I wake tired in the morning. I can’t give it up ‘cause I need to work. It’s not cool. I am tired and worn.”<br /><br />…In other news a man decided to leap from a building after believing he was free and could fly away from everything.—He did.</span><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<iframe frameborder="no" height="150" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/163596463&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&visual=true" width="100%"></iframe>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7481300693776188263.post-45730058776575995822014-08-17T20:05:00.002-04:002014-08-19T23:36:34.867-04:00Facebook Farming<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’m going farming today—for likes. If you like my post not only will you be supporting a starving artist’s self esteem, but you will also be boosting my already inflated ego. Thanks in advance for making my day worth living.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><iframe frameborder="no" height="150" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/163595213&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&visual=true" width="100%"></iframe>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7481300693776188263.post-51529382314555387772014-08-17T19:37:00.002-04:002014-08-19T23:37:14.308-04:00Absurdly Rational Conclusions<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yo! Peeps! of the digital world?! What’s the word crazy birds? Nah, I ain’t that corny, but I try. Don’t hate. You know you like it ;-)<br /><br />Anyway, peeps are are like little yellow things. They can be put into a microwave and heated and also explode. That’s fun. Don’t know ‘bout you but I like destruction. Who doesn’t? Like smashing glass just to hear it break. But, that’s not just for the sake of destruction, that’s for the sake of a beauty, an appreciation towards destruction that creates a beauty, in turn, a sound, in essence, that resonates something more beautiful than destruction for the sake of destruction…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<iframe frameborder="no" height="150" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/163194098&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&visual=true" width="100%"></iframe>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7481300693776188263.post-75779997872029727412014-08-05T15:31:00.000-04:002014-08-19T23:37:31.709-04:00A ball of yarn so clever<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Wakes
rippled the waters. The speed boats sped. Engines sounded and sails sailed. The
water sparkled as if a treasure trove of jewels was blanketed over it as the
reflections shone onto the wall of the sunroom. And, the kitten played within
the glass room that overlooked the beach, warmed over with the days that
followed spring.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The
cat, crouching behind the foot rest, pupils dilating, tail being held as stiff
as still and it was about to pounce on the ball of yarn. The battle of wits
began as the cat was there as quick as light by two giant leaps from behind the
foot rest, from where it peered over to eye its pray; then, onto the couch and it
struck the ball of yarn with claws out, giving a swift three jabs, right, left,
right, but – the ball of yarn refused to give up. And so they sparred and the
cat was convinced it was winning.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The
owner watched the cat playfully toy with its amusement. The owner was amused,
too, as the cat was her object of amusement and affection. Although, sometimes before the kitten would
attack, it would jump high. Higher than a knee of an average sized adult.
Strait up, too! On occasion, a sneeze would alarm the kitten like the attention
shattering fog horns that sounded near the water. The cat did not cause the
sneezes. It was the dust that had settled over the many years the owner had not
hired a housekeeper, seven to be exact, since she had gotten the kitten. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now
a cat at the tender age of seven, it grew tired. The yarn, that is. It didn’t
move around as much as the owner would have liked it to but that was the
natural tune of age. The lesser the energy of the yarn to offend was the more
the cat didn’t defend itself. The wisdom of age will speak of at least one
thing and the tone with which it would speak would sometimes suggest that not
all battles neither have to be fought out of selfish defense nor offense. The yarn
had nothing more to not disprove, and the owner was fine with that and so was
the cat. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The
longer the whiskers, the slender the body and the more regal and elegant the
cat became as sometimes it would sit on its owner’s lap with front legs
crossed. Now that some grey was showing,
the cat kneaded the owner more and more for comfort, staying on its lap for naps
that seemed like the terrible length of dog day afternoons that dogs would often
sigh on and on about, but – the cat was
content, happy and purred more so now that it felt its young age. Even though
its appearance may have told a story of an old and tired cat, it was ripe with
life and love; it no longer had that childish hurriedness that often
accompanied immaturity and, outside, even the boats that sped seemed to slow
and the treasure trove of sparkling jewels were not as dazzling as once had
been before. They didn’t need to be.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So
it was that life was coming to a cadence, a resolve and with it the cat reflected
that the ball of yarn didn’t want to win. They were both never concerned with
winning. For, now the ball of yarn and the cat and the owner were all content
to be with one another, without conflict, with nothing left to prove other than
the love for their selves and, in turn, for one another. They didn’t mean that,
though – because the only thing that they cared about was their own sense of a
true, happy and selfish lovingness.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIB2UdDLcEfG6ja69jACbiJ0_al2vOXE2BIvj_fiPDiHfcT_o-lSQ1oqUSQ6oYTu6OZ2PaNXx23JybpNFci7gK609WEgA3UeNOrs3BAlo8TG_K1Zltj8EltpzWWLAYUhOOQfyk87nQNJA/s1600/ball-of-yarn-628x363-TS-158226090.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIB2UdDLcEfG6ja69jACbiJ0_al2vOXE2BIvj_fiPDiHfcT_o-lSQ1oqUSQ6oYTu6OZ2PaNXx23JybpNFci7gK609WEgA3UeNOrs3BAlo8TG_K1Zltj8EltpzWWLAYUhOOQfyk87nQNJA/s640/ball-of-yarn-628x363-TS-158226090.jpg" /></span> </a> </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7481300693776188263.post-20585480488253056652014-08-02T13:08:00.000-04:002014-08-19T23:37:43.734-04:00Flights of Fancy<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I walk outside. A branch droops—more than yesterday. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I start the car. The radio was left on. I Drive. The wheel lightly tugs to the right.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At the deli my sandwich was made and a song was sung along to a tune on the radio. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm back home. I sit. I think. The branch drooping, the radio on and the song that was sung and what came but a brief glimmer of inspiration—I fervently write.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Time stopped or didn’t exist. I didn’t know which. I held back and strategically attacked. At first, ideas were friends. As I befriended each, their hostage would not be short. For, after their time as a prisoner of war, they were let go. Over time some things are no longer useful for war or friendship.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I felt time start again; many days and hours had passed. I hadn’t slept; still high on my creative flight. I wrestle desperately with sleep; thoughts still racing and finally asleep—dreams lucid. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I wake and repeat.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7481300693776188263.post-84474142754080725072014-07-31T12:59:00.003-04:002014-08-19T23:37:51.511-04:00Crazy don't know it's crazy<div dir="ltr">
“Hey! Where are you? We’re on a short schedule. We have to get going! LET’S GO!” and she hammered the horn, no care that I was outside and already walking towards the car.<br />
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
Her granddaughter got out of the passenger’s side and I was about to get in. </div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
“Did you lock the door,” Ley asked as she passed me.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
“No,” I said.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
Ley squinted her eyes.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
I grabbed for my pocket, raced to the door, unlocked it and hurried back towards the car.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
“Sorry, Retta,” I said as she was tapping her finger on the steering wheel.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
“You know I do what I do…I do for the best, no?” she said.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
“I do, Retta” I said, closing the door.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
The radio was playing<i> Suspicious </i><i>Minds</i>. I’ve always enjoyed this song by the late, great Elvis. Could never go wrong with an oldie, but I didn’t tune the station, and I enjoyed it.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
“Who put the toast in the toaster this morning?” she asked and sighed.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
“Do you mean to say the bread?”</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
She took a deep breath in and said, “I don’t want any bread! We’re driving!”</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
“Oh, well, we’re going to the shoe store?”</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
“The Walmart. The shoe store is in the same parking lot.”</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
“Sounds good. I’ll walk over.”</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
“Good. Then I’ll drive over there after I get everything and I’ll pick you up. I have to go to the Dollar Tree now.”</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
“My feet hurt. I can’t wait to get some new shoes,” I said.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
“Well, don’t walk!”</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
“How am I supposed to get places?”</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
“I’m driving you. What do you mean?”</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
“Nothing. Thanks for driving.”</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
We arrived at Walmart and got out. </div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
I walked to the shoe store.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
“Hello, can I help you find anything?” the shoe store attendant said.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
“Where are the ten-and-a-halves? The athletic shoes, sneakers, what-have-you?”</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
“Right over this way,” and she waved her hand for me to follow.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
“Oh, thanks. Yes, these will do,” as I eyed up the shoe rack.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
“If you need anything else don’t hesitate to ask.”</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
“Thank you,” I said.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
A matter of seconds passed, and I picked up a pair of some grey and tan running shoes. </div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
“Excuse me,” I said, “are there any other stools to sit on, so I can try out the shoes?”</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
“There’s one in each aisle. The next one over will have another. I know. Sorry. I realize with stocking these shelves I’m taking up the one in this aisle.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
“No worries,” I said.</div>
<br />
I sat and tried them on. I tightened the shoe laces. I stood and started walking, seeing if my heel and arch were supported enough so that they didn’t hurt when I walked. They didn’t. I walked a few more paces back and forth and sat down to take them off. I walked over to the next aisle where she was and said, “I’m ready to buy these. Would you be able to ring me out?”<br />
<br />
<div dir="ltr">
“Would you like any socks to go with your purchase? They are two for ten today.”</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
I looked at the rack, where she was pointing, and I saw a pair of black and neon yellow socks.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
I picked up the two sets of socks and said, “I’m ready,” and we both walked towards the register. </div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
When I got outside with my bag-in-hand Retta was not there. I waited for a few moments and decided that I would walk over to the Dollar Tree to see if her car was still there. I did. I was only a few hundred feet away and saw it. Even if I had been wearing no eye glasses I’d still be able to see how crooked she parked. </div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
I sat on the curb in front of the car and put the shoes on. They held my feet like a soft glove, and then I stood up, leaned against the car, placed the bag on top of the trunk and rested my back against it, looking towards the Dollar Tree. </div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
I saw a person exiting the store. It was not Retta. There was a man, an elderly one, with a cane, and he was hunched over. He walked slowly, was thin and with each five to six steps he paused to catch his breath.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
The old man walked to a car that was idling in the fire lane since I had been there, about five minutes ago. He got in but without haste. While he was entering his car a mini-van pulled up in front his. Apparently, the old man didn’t like that the mini-van was parked in front of his car. Even though he had enough space to get around the van he honked his horn as if it was his last dying wish for everybody to hear his frustration. He did this for the next two minutes, letting off the horn for only seconds at time and the driver in the mini-van honked back, just as needlessly. Birds took off from their perch upon hearing the obnoxious horn battle. </div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
I chuckled – just a little. </div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
Finally, the mini-van driver backed up only after flipping the man the finger and cursing him. I only saw the violent hand and mouth gestures. The old man pulled out but not before revving his engine, squealing his tires and honking his horn but one more time. Despite how old the man was he certainly still had some fight left within him.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
Then, Retta came out of the store.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
She put the bags in the back seat, we got in and she started the car. </div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
We were on our way back home.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
Now, we were only one stop sign away from the house. Retta was talking to me and not paying too much mind to the road. From what I could see as I raced to put my seat belt on and to grab the door handle – there Retta was unknowingly playing chicken with an oncoming car. She noticed I was tense and only then did her eyes dart from me to the road, and she honked her horn. She didn’t even attempt to get out of the oncoming lane that she was half way in. In fact, I think she pulled a little more towards the wrong side of the road. </div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
I counted my blessings. </div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
At the last moment, she swerved to the correct side of the road. </div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
We passed the oncoming car, and we could both hear the driver yelling some nasty words. </div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
She yelled back and went onto say to me, “You see!? People around here are crazy, aren’t they?”</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
I held my breath and tongue and agreed by nodding my head. I was only relieved when she parked the car and pulled the key from the ignition. Only then was I happy to be alive. </div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
We parked and I asked, “Would you like me to carry anything in?”</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
“No,” she said, “you’re carrying the stuff in!”</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
“Sure thing, Retta,” and she carried on as if nothing had happened. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7481300693776188263.post-30546759272739079032014-06-21T21:41:00.001-04:002015-05-30T15:16:19.560-04:00The Butterfly and the Chameleon<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
A butterfly
sat on a rock. He threw his left leg over the right and held his little hand to
his bubbly chin. He stared into the setting sun but just to the side enough so
that he would not be blinded.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
A chameleon
walked. He waddled back and forth, using only his two hind legs. When he
stopped he propped himself at the foot of the rock and looked up to the
butterfly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Charlie,”
the chameleon started, "What do ya think we’re doing here? The sun is
setting and Alexander hasn't shown up yet. I’m starting to get a little worried
that she might not make it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Just blend
in with the surroundings and everthing’ll be okay. Butterflies are harmless but
people don’t much like lizards.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“But,
Charlie, I don’t think we should be here. I am getting scared.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Listen, Barry,
just blend in, be quiet, Alexander will show and we'll be on our way!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Barry did
that but not happily. He threw his arms in the air, huffed and grimaced. The
chameleon blended into the surroundings and held his tongue.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Charlie
turned his head and Barry’s ear pricked. They felt the loud footsteps that beat
the ground as loud as a stampeding elephant would.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Hey,
Charlie! Is that you on that rock over there,” someone yelled.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Nobody
answered.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Hey,
Charlie, you over there!?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The ground
shook violently as Barry turned round and almost lost his footing. The rock was
a mere half size of Alexander’s foot. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Yes,
Alexander, over here I am. Over here!” Charlie
said, waving his hands.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I see you!”
Alexander said and quickly halted, nearly sliding into the rock. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Barry peered
over, still hidden. The slight whites of his eyes twinkled.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Hey,”
Alexander said, “What is that over there?" she said and pointed, "I
see something. Looks like two little specks.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Alexander
knew already that Barry's wit would be nowhere near as bright as the sun's
light, as she easily spotted him hiding in plain sight.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Alexander
called over to the two little specks, “Hey, whatcha doing over there? You wanna
come and play with us? You don’t have to fit in with everything else. You can
be different with us.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Charlie
said, “Hey, come on out. Alexander has seen you. You can start being yourself.”
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Aww, gee,
Charlie, thanks. I was getting all alone being by myself and everything.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Hi, my name
is Alexander. How are you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Barry
hesitated, turned to Charlie and said, “Gee, am I allowed to talk to her,
Charlie? She kinda scares me. I don’t know what’s going on here.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Yes,
Alexander is a friend. Think of how we are friends only now you have someone
else to talk to.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Aww, gee,
Charlie, I’m still a little scared. Nobody has ever been like this before. I
only know who you are.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“It’s okay.
She’s nice. She won’t hurt you."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Charlie turned
to Alexander and said, "Lean down and put your hand out. Just let him
climb up. He’s a little bashful sometimes. He’s never talked to anyone else
before.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Poor guy.
Why? Doesn't he get out much?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“He’s shy.
He just blends in with everything else. Sorta like he is there but not. Just
like a chameleon, you know.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“What’s his
name?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Barry.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Barry shook.
He could barely make eye contact. He looked towards her, away and back and away
and…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Barry, come
on up. Climb up on my hand. Don’t let your fear ruin your fun. Just come on up
and we’ll be friends. I won’t hurt you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Aww, gee,
Charlie, I don’t feel so good.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Barry, come
on now. Just climb on up her hand.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“But,
Charlie, you said people don’t much like lizards,” and Barry pouted his lips
and squinted his eyes. He almost cried, but he inched towards Alexander’s hand
anyway.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“There you
go, Barry, just come on up. We’ll be friends. Everything will be okay once you
know who I am,” Alexander said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Gee,
Charlie, this feels awfully uncomfortable. Am I gonna be alright? I don’t wanna
die or anything.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Barry, come
on, you’re okay. Alexander and I have been friends since I came out of my
cocoon. Now it’s your turn.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Gee,
Charlie, but I’m not a butterfly though.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Barry,
Charlie means that you’ll open up. You’ll be able to be okay with being seen by
others. You won’t have to worry about hiding yourself anymore. You’ll be as
free as a butterfly but not one itself.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Well, gee,
guys, I guess that sorta, kinda makes sense. Thanks for being so nice and
stuff. This makes me feel better.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“That’s what
friends are for, Barry, now come on. Let's go to go to the picnic table. We can
all sit by the fire and have fun.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Alexander
placed Barry on her shoulder. She gracefully walked towards the picnic table so
Barry could easily keep his balance. Charlie flew besides them. They sat by the
fire, talked and were all comforted in the fact that they could all be friends.<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7481300693776188263.post-28623803700782709252014-06-20T14:05:00.005-04:002014-08-19T23:38:22.215-04:00The little things<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">...a spiritual jail of sorts of my own demise; that I've sadly believed I am too busy to enjoy the little things; the mistake in that I couldn't defy my own spiritual gravity; that I was confined to the laws of my own devise from what I have told myself and what has been told to me. Though I've come to realize and know that rules can be bent, even the laws of physics can be in some cases -- malleable. I'd like to believe, have faith and hope that I can think the unthinkable, to expect the unexpected, to be someone who can be both set apart from the rest but intrinsically connected, too; that I can take joy in life and experience an utmost appreciation of and for it. After all, without those breaths of air -- well, I am just so simply happy that I can breathe in -- and that I can breathe out...sorta makes me wonder how anything else could have the same profound effect...</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7481300693776188263.post-79535644469754902922014-06-15T14:17:00.000-04:002014-08-19T23:38:43.573-04:00No, thank you!KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! started an unnecessarily rude bang at my bedroom door.<br />
<br />
I got myself out of bed and put my feet to the floor. I dragged them as a grumpy, insolent adult would upon going to a dentist's office.<br />
<br />
"Hey, wake up!" she said as I did that.<br />
<br />
"What do you want!?"<br />
<br />
"You can't sleep all day."<br />
<br />
"It's only ten o' clock," I yelled through the door.<br />
<br />
"Doesn't matter. If I'm up then you're up!"<br />
<br />
"Alright," I said while rubbing my eyes.<br />
<br />
The footsteps walked away and I found myself in an unpleasant mood. I groaned and moaned, cursing to myself after having only four hours of sleep and abhorring being rudely awoken. Today was not going to be a good day.<br />
<br />
A friend picked me up to go out and my irritation hung around like a nasty, nostril clenching odor does when lingering in a hallway when there is no exit. Each sound that he made like clearing his throat, clicking his teeth, swallowing, breathing or hearing the window roll down agitated me; even out of the corner of my eye when he took a look at my miserable face I just wanted to tear him apart with an unneeded caustic diatribe and say, "Don't look at me."<br />
<br />
The whole day went by and I nearly said nothing.<br />
<br />
During the ride home I did manage to say, "You see that font on the back of the truck?"<br />
<br />
"You mean where it says the word 'Aaron'?"<br />
<br />
"Yes."<br />
<br />
"I have this feeling inside of me; an irrational irritation; a feeling that I can't put into reason; what this feeling is suggesting is that font is horrible, and I hate it, loathe it and the people who put it on the truck should not have and they should die because it hurts my eyes."<br />
<br />
"Why?"<br />
<br />
"I don't know. I was rudely awoken, and for some reason things that wouldn't normally bother me are. That is why I wasn't speaking much today. I didn't want to say anything that I would later regret. That happens sometimes when I'm irritable. I am just in a bad mood and not as a result of anything other than, I guess, my own inner workings. Like all people, sometimes, well, today is just a bad day," I said, sighed and continued, "Now if it were to last several weeks I may become concerned but I'll just write it off as a bad day for now."<br />
<br />
"Well, isn't that how all negative feelings are?"<br />
<br />
"Like what?"<br />
<br />
"The person who designed the font is not out to get you. Something makes you want to believe that to justify that ill willed feeling or temperament. The people who designed the font on the back of the truck didn't intend to piss you off specifically. At least you recognize that your irritability is simply a state of mind, a product of your own inner workings and just a temporary one at that. Usually most things negative are just a result of the person contriving them to be so; they are not that way naturally. Sometimes we just want them to be to give reason to that unsettling feeling, to justify, hopefully abolish the irritability in the process given that the reason for your feeling of negativity is what you are giving it. But it is not. Think of it like this; since the dust is already unsettled as your bad mood is unsettled, compared to a neutral and baseline state of mind, the things that come into your mind are not being clearly seen, they are distorted by your current negative mind-state. Not only that but that you are also able to speak to this issue shows a willingness to accept your state of mind instead of evading, averting, escaping it or blaming it on something else other than yourself. You're taking responsibility and holding only yourself accountable for that negative feeling. If you'll notice, you are still able to practice mindfulness despite this negative feeling wanting to distract you from just that -- that is where people can go wrong in dealing with a feeling such of this nature. Plainly, you understand your agitation is not a result of someone or something other than yourself. The ability to express such a thing rationally, with me, and to not beat me down in the process and that you were able to keep your mouth shut for fear of saying something regrettable but opened it to discussion in order to understand it rather than to criticize it, hurt someone, well, that shows great restraint, an <i>amazing </i>amount of restraint and discipline towards your human condition, our human condition. Effectively, you kept your mind and reality in check! I want to say I am impressed and happy to see progress with something like that -- in anybody, for that matter, and that you weren't so selfish as to ruin my day too!<br />
<br />
The only response I gave was a nod and a silence then followed for the remainder of the car ride. I felt better and even better that I didn't have anything to feel bad about as a result of my irritated mood. The ruffle was my irritability and the diamond was my mindfulness and the unsettled dust that needed to be cleared in order to acknowledge this insight was a misunderstanding towards my bad mood that without my friend I may have never been able to settle.<br />
<br />
The brakes slightly squealed. The car had stopped and so had my irritability. <br />
<br />
I got out and said, "Thank you."<br />
<br />
We both then waved and I went into the house. But, as he was driving off I could hear him say, "No, thank you!" And, into the house I went -- smiling.<br />
<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" lang="en">
My face grimaced, lips pursed. My nostrils flared and eyes glared. That font on the back of the truck was a Gothic font.<br />
— Nik (@Nik_Bertino) <a href="https://twitter.com/Nik_Bertino/statuses/478009140821118976">June 15, 2014</a></blockquote>
<script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7481300693776188263.post-86822061374483206212014-06-14T23:40:00.000-04:002014-08-19T23:38:58.928-04:00A Twitter Story<div class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />I picked up a pen but put it down quickly. 'Nothing' was written, literally. And, that somewhere a picture was at a pad of paper drawing itself and on it said:<br /><br />"Here lies the 'Brave Coward'. He didn't care what anyone thought. His brave screams always made us aware of a mouse in the house."<br /><br />So, it was at that point when I decided to tell everyone that they had downsized our entire workforce. Now -- we were all gonna be on the first floor.<br /><br />In the end, that which was a dream held tight despite adversity. Then, it woke, but somewhere, a story like this, is telling itself it's bad.</span><br />
<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" lang="en">
<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31999969482422px;">
Somewhere a picture is at a pad of paper drawing itself.</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31999969482422px;">
— Nik (@Nik_Bertino) <a href="https://twitter.com/Nik_Bertino/statuses/478007797238743040">June 15, 2014</a></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" lang="en" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31999969482422px;">
Here lies he Brave Coward. He didn't care what anyone thought. His brave screams always made us aware of a mouse in the house.<br />
— Nik (@Nik_Bertino) <a href="https://twitter.com/Nik_Bertino/statuses/478007491713052672">June 15, 2014</a></blockquote>
<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" lang="en" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31999969482422px;">
They downsized our entire work. Now we're just on the first floor.<br />
— Nik (@Nik_Bertino) <a href="https://twitter.com/Nik_Bertino/statuses/478005684894568448">June 15, 2014</a></blockquote>
<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" lang="en" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31999969482422px;">
The dream held tight despite adversity. Then it woke.<br />
— Nik (@Nik_Bertino) <a href="https://twitter.com/Nik_Bertino/statuses/478010656483184640">June 15, 2014</a></blockquote>
<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" lang="en" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31999969482422px;">
Somewhere a story plot is telling itself it's bad.<br />
— Nik (@Nik_Bertino) <a href="https://twitter.com/Nik_Bertino/statuses/478010392527241217">June 15, 2014</a></blockquote>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31999969482422px;">
<script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script>
<script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script>
<script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script>
<script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script>
<script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script>
</div>
</div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7481300693776188263.post-32462205253755321892014-06-13T21:10:00.000-04:002014-08-19T23:39:24.432-04:00The dog who knew too much<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">His name was Harry. He was a good dog. He was gentle. He was caring and considerate, cordial and coordinated in his efforts to please. Not a day would go by without him eyeing his owner, checking, looking and listening for what he may do next. Whenever his owner would walk the house he'd be just a step behind. When his owner would turn, then Harry sat, and went into his downward dog position. What the owner did next was walk and Harry did that too.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Breakfast was served to Harry in the morning. The food was dry but in the center was the moist food. Harry only ate the center and left the rest to snack throughout his dog day afternoons. The days weren't as long as a dog would have you believe. He laid, listened, perked his ears up occasionally and very seldom barked. The only time Harry barked was if there was an awkward knock or sometimes when his owner showed a deeply caring and compassionate look letting Harry know he was truly loved, that everything is and will forever be okay. For, a day without Harry would be a day without his best friend, buddy and companion.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Harry had gray eyes. In the night they glistened blue. In the deadest dark Harry's cool blue eyes shined like turquoise. Harry knew his owner's birthday was in December and Harry would always here that story. The story of how his owner was born the day before Capricorn took its sign but that was just balderdash to Harry. He listened but rarely ever heard.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The times in which the owner lived were not tough, for Harry always had his dinner, a warm place in the winter and a cool place in the summer but it was the transitional seasons that were the hardest for him. Going from one season to the next took months and sometimes Harry labored over the change. The reluctance Harry felt was overwhelming sometimes but he knew change happened and that the best thing to do was just to roll with it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sometimes Harry and the owner would leave the house. They would do that when they couldn't sit still but Harry always could -- sit still.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The owner at times would look sad. Harry could see it but his owner couldn't. There was something that was bothering him and that also bothered Harry. Sometimes Harry would go up and lick his owner's hand but that wasn't enough and his owner just pushed him away. Harry let him be. He was a dog. What more could he do?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The owner at times would look happy. Harry could see it and his owner could too. There were somethings that didn't bother him and also didn't bother Harry. Sometimes Harry would frolic, balance on his hind legs and yip a little to enjoy in the joy his owner felt. His owner would get up and dance with Harry. They danced together to music, no music. Harry let him be. He was a dog. What more couldn't he do?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Harry obviously wasn't able to speak in the human sense. He couldn't tell a lie either and had no secrets. There are no secrets to have if there wasn't anything to be hidden or revealed. Harry knew a lot but just too little for anyone to have any kind of stake in his silence. Silence to Harry meant nothing but all the world to his owner.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A solitary life, Harry, his owner and the occasional visitor. Maybe every now and again a love interest would stop by but never for long and never over night. But they never went upstairs for Harry, him and when his love interest were there just conversed in front of the TV or while the radio played and sometimes there was just complete, dead and utter silence. Harry enjoyed the smooth sounds of conversation that caressed his dog ears as sometimes they would perk up.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Years and years went by and by and time just seemed to fly. The man Harry knew was changing and Harry was too. He was getting slower and his eyes drooped. At times Harry had a hard time walking but his owner helped him. He would carry him to the yard so Harry could do his essential business. Harry also had a hard time getting to the food bowl, even. Harry knew he didn't have too much time left. He knew that knowing that was too much. He knew his owner knew that about him too and Harry just looked him in the eyes and they both stared at each other and Harry knew he knew.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The car ride was a peaceful one. Harry just laid in the back looking towards his owner but not at him. Harry thought he was looking at him but his owner knew he was not. His owner knew Harry didn't know that he couldn't see.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Harry was picked up and carried into a building. Harry looked towards sounds but even then faintly heard them. Harry was calm, quiet and content. He took his trip with a sense of pride knowing that he knew too much. He knew the world was too caring to let him live any longer and that both the world and his owner deeply cared for him.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Harry's owner handed Harry over.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Harry yipped a little and was too tired to continue for the length of the injection.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">With that his owner left but not before leaning down and as Harry took his last breath, he looked into his owner's eyes, being able to see them -- barely-- and barked, but not a bark for an awkward knock; that never happened. And, Harry became motionless. His owner cradled him, said his goodbyes, left and rode home, home to the memory of Harry, home to know that there is no place like home so long as his best friend was not there.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Years and years later, after never having another Harry, Harry and his owner reconnected, reunited and there, together, they both slipped into a peaceful, deep and lasting sleep -- forever -- together.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0