let’s pretend

1_blueberries.jpg

FADE IN: a couple who have been arguing.

Let’s pretend for a while. Let’s be two different people with different pasts and different heartaches.

What are you talking about?

Let’s forget we’re fighting and pretend we don’t know each other. “Hey there,” (he smiles)

Stop it.

“How’s the coffee?”

I’m not playing this stupid game

“That’s a pretty dress.”

“Thank you,” (she mutters as she rolls her eyes)

“Got something special happening today?”

“Nope, just waiting for my boyfriend to wake the fuck up.”

“Oh, he’s a late sleeper?”

“No, he’s a dickhead who can’t see what’s in front of him.”

(he smiles)

“Well, if he forgets to tell you, know that you heard it from me: you look beautiful.”

(she looks away)

“You are beautiful.”

Stop it (she looks away again) 

“Can I get you a blueberry muffin to go with your coffee?”

FADE OUT.

why not?

She doesn’t say thank you.
It’s mindbloggling.
We took her to the moon and back, showed her the stars; live music, delicious eats, Nature, space, room to breathe, ears to listen, shoulders for padding — we have been the best hosts.
And yet.. no thanks.

How about:
Thank you for buying dinner.
Thank you for making me tea.
Thank you for driving me around.
Thank you for the company.
Thank you For. It. All.

I’m watching myself retract from her.
I’m watching myself not wanna care.
Something so simple.
Three words that make all the difference.
And yet.
Why am I so attached?
Why do I need that gratification? And so immediately?

I let it go for some months.
Let this new light fester.
And then..
Out of the blue, she reached out and asked what I wanted for Christmas
To say thanks for making her first West Coast visit one of her favorite memories.

I died.

shoulda been me

shoulda been me

I wanted to win.
It’s stupid and childish
I know, I get it.
And who fuckin’ cares, right?
But Got Damn It.

It was in the bag!
All bets were off.
On the tip of everyone’s tongue,
“And the winner is…”
Like synchronized swimmers, ME!

What. The. fuck.
What changed?
Who fucked up?
Who’s to blame?
Where did I go wrong?

Continue reading “shoulda been me”

survival of the fittest

survival of the fittest

FADE IN: a man talks into a camera.

Uh, I’m being inarticulate. You just gotta be focused. You gotta be clear in what you want and why. This world is changing. And it’s not looking good. You know.
NPR did this story about the Survivalists among the rich. These guys have built underground bunk-like-houses for the next “apocalypse”. They’re speculating a full-blown civil war. Billionaires have gone out and bought secret get-aways with generators and solar paneling, specifically for Doom’s Day. You know Reddit online? The fuckin’ chief officer carries with him a survivalist bag – canned goods, water, ammunition, maps. Another superrich dude went out and got laser eye surgery simply because he fears supplies will eventually dry up. I mean, yeah, who gives a fuck about his eye surgery, that’s not the point. Listen to what he’s sayin’.
They’re sniffin’ the shit and it don’t smell right. And who are they? The movers and shakers of our world.
Everything that’s happenin’ with Trump and China and Russia; the environment, mass shootings, the increasing black and white tension, – it’s not looking good.
But, that’s the point I’m trying to make. We can’t get upset about it anymore, we’re way past that.
[he laughs]
Nah man. The breakdown of society or at least a catastrophic earthquake is just around the corner. And now’s the time to get really crystalized in what you want and why you want it. So, what’s your Why?

FADE OUT.

singing bowl of rage

singing bowl of rage  roman games

I’m furious
I feel like I can run 10 miles
And then eat a cake, straight out of the singing bowl of Rage
Blood pulsing
Mind spouting obscenities

How did it come to this?
Why am I shooting off the mouth like a loose canon
spiraling through the atmosphere?
Where’s grace, goddamnit?

It’s about not being listened to
It’s about not being taken into account
It’s about blame
Doing it wrong
You’re bad,
Back off.

Get off –
No
No
No.

Continue reading “singing bowl of rage”