The Writing Impulse

New Year - Insanity

2011-12-31T21:53:00.000-08:00

Today I woke up with a little help from Snow White to the realization that I am in fact aging. I'm no longer wasting my days away on internet dating sites, nor social networking, but instead working on business plans and watching stocks. Oh how the times have changed! This up coming year I will be TWENTY FUCKING SEVEN! So I rightfully decided that I would celebrate it like had turned 22 (22 being my favorite year) Yes, I'm settling down, well kinda. Most people would think what i'm doing is disgusting. This is because I'm working on building a company based on the advancement of modern medicine (drugs) but shhhhhhhhh. Thats right everything your D.A.R.E. teacher told you was fucking bullshit. Anyway if I weren't ass deep in business 101 I would be writing fiction, however like I said before I'm getting older and it's time to work! . . . for drugs? HAPPY MOTHER FUCKING NEW YEARS THIS Year I'm bringing it in right with two Jersey Boys, Joey and Craig, my ex wife Jenn and my current love Panda. A weird combo of fucking crazies and I couldn't be happier! I feel like 2012 is going to fucking rock, but that's probably because I went to Vegas for XXXMas! Real writing to come, I swear. Hail Satan!

My Official FB Page, now you can stalk me anytime

2011-11-11T02:34:00.000-08:00

It's My OWN Facebook Page!

In The Showcases of Love

2011-11-11T01:17:00.000-08:00

The curtain peels back for the final call.
“It’s been one hell of a ride, kid, but you put up a good fight”, a reassuring voice…familiar, comforting, but in need of recognizance…immediately placates my explosion of nervous energy.
Fiddling nervously I have no idea how I got here, how many times have I been in such a loving place where there is no path, no path to show me how I got here and how I should exit, given the need to. It’s the need to that got my heart pumping faster, my mind feeling out the world of “If’s” and it is in that world that I may flee back to darkness from which I came, all because I believed you believed I could Not be the one.
In that ultimate, immaculate thought conception, I saw the clear reasons I wanted to take Life from my body. I needed no more excuse nor factual evidence to prove myself that I should simply
not exist.
I relax, recline on my heals, then fall back into the warm darkness of “trust”. I never thought I’d have the balls to do it. Turns out, it didn’t take Balls. It just took on hell of a distorted belief of my so-called Truth, entirely too many prescription pills and a knife off a bottle opener.
And
And Then
I stopped
Dead in my tracks
At What?
A smile so sacred that nothing in this planet could make a parallel reaction shine through my eyes and in to hers, with all the force of world surrounding us, with US surrounding us and all of the word of bullshit dialogue of what was forced into our lives like a fucking movie. Nothing could stop us, or should I say me, with that one smile, as broken as the world may see me. I am yours in your smile.
I could write it whatever way I want, tell an epic tale to a stranger as fiction or fact, adventure or comedy, love story or heavy tragedy. All, balled up in one, could unravel in a heartbeat as a showing of affection, trust, or a cry for company. What I really needed was a dose of reality I could Hang On To, and release me of the prison of my emotional entanglement with my ego. Your smile, piercing eyes and perfected art of Living Life…
…too the Fullest…
We are all addicted to the faces of Love.

You are a Strange Denial . . . I was a Forced Quit

2011-09-13T04:01:00.001-07:00

A stale interaction, a raw affair, two which are the world of my existence. I fight the day to cry the night so humbly at the feet of nothingness. Because there is nothing. There could be nothing, but there was something. A tear at the gaping hole of my existence. A love that shattered the rights and rules of life. You stood there portraying the innocence one, as I dazzled my eyes about your body, and up I go to your mind which is so complex, that I can’t imagine it has room for me. In that deep breath, did you catch it? All the words I wanted to say to you, spilled out then were sucked back in. I’m no one’s muse, or should I say I’m not standing before you with anything to offer. If so I wouldn’t be standing. I would laying down beside you in a place I know only exists in my head. Surrounding myself with something beautiful. That beautiful thing is you. And I’d thought you’d never ask. I thought I would be swimming in this pool of filthy dreams forever. I thought I would be some dying rose you hang upside down. How pitiful when I think or was thought of as just a daydream. Something house wives tell their friends, but not their lovers. You were a strange denial, I was a forced quit. And here I am, standing as a proud lady should, looking you in those eyes that had me in a trance this whole time. You knew. You have always known. What a great sympathy you gave me, in my deep sadden lost. What a fight you brought on, when I answered all the questions right, and gave a chance of freedom as an option. There was never any doubt in my mind I belonged there. Though here I am, still smelling the traces of where you left me. Taking that breath in as a reminder, and spilling myself out in the cold air. I would have never walked away. I couldn’t. The strong heart I have wouldn’t let it go. It kept me singing through the rough times for you to come back. That there would be a miracle. Those days dead with reality. I smile at this, or laugh at that, and think fondly about what could have been a happiness equal expressed by both parties. This Romeo and Juliet, this was all just a sham in my brain. Something I made up, and it was never your fault. You can never be what I thought you were. You could never see what I saw in you. That blindfold had to come off me some time or another, but the batting of your eyes kept me on my trail in some fucked up wonderland. Still there is a place. That place where you hide, and creep up without my knowing, it stings me and I try to look away. I look at something else and call it better. Real. But what is real now? Some pity party of self delusion. Time is what’s got my back. It seems this will fade into nothing. That’s not what I want. I was so immersed in that fossil love. It gave me hope, brought me smiles. Made the days so long and nights so short. But I could never compare. I was never the Romeo. An object in your mind, I played myself, so to speak, in your kind words, and soft kiss. I don’t feel like a fool, as much as I feel like a loss. Because I know something was real. I know something was that which now is the greatest decay of my present state. The days will go on, and I will still be writing up a dream. Writing to no extent the love mass of my delusion in you, and in us.

Constructive Negligence and Neuroscience - Part 2

2011-09-13T03:41:00.003-07:00

Loss of Responsibility, Freedom of Choice, and Existence of “You”

What would be the exact definition of “you” or what do you think of when it comes to you as an individual? What makes you an individual? And what would happen if you found out that every single action you did was predetermined by genetics? That you had absolutely no control over what was thought of as your “choices”. Not to involve name placement such as religion, or lets even cut out determinism for a second. But let’s get down to the basics. Would you agree if every thought, action, decision, response, and choice you had as human being could be predetermined given all the variables (including all possible neuron sparks in your brain) and a basic mathematical equation i.e. throw the ball the left, it will go left . . . then the current definition of “you” would be non-applicable to life, and therefore changes the essence of existence. The definition of you commonly being individual actions, likes, dislikes, actions, and most importantly actions. If all could be predetermined, then there is no choice, and “you” does not exist. There is no idea of self, individualism, freedom, or responsibility. Hence you would lose all control over what you thought made up your entire life, and would have to not only redefine your existence, but admit, that you are only a programmed piece of meat and flesh, and are not responsible for what you make, do, say, or achieve. Hard to swallow? Try reading Eliezer J Sternberg’s “My Brain Made Me Do It: The Rise of Neuroscience and the Threat to Moral Responsibility” It’s a great read, that pretty much backs my theory of non-existence. BUT
On a much lighter, and possibly Fabulous NOTE -> Someone actually said that I should start a religion based on myself and that they would find a crew of people to follow . . .
;) more to come on the that crazy idea
As it is now, I will return to fiction writing, ranting, and so forth. Lately it’s been nothing but business and politics for me and I could use a trip to fiction land. All I can say is this
Expect great things to come!

Constructive Negligence and Neuroscience Part 1

2011-09-03T04:51:00.000-07:00

I rolled around on the kitchen floor. Laughing, crying, and screaming until someone paid attention. It was Panda; she sat down close to the breakfast bar, but not yet in the kitchen.
“What is wrong now?”
“I, eh?” How could I sum this up to someone going about a normal day, with a normal mind set and common goals?
“Come on Jane, just say it.” Dead tone and used up words. I flinched. Looking at her now, she was even more beautiful than my mind had built up. I reached for her, but she was too far away.
“I’m reading this book, and if I don’t prove this guy wrong . . . then . . . “
She closed her eyes. It had been a hell of a day. We were moving, again, and this time with only a couple of days’ notice and no movers. We had to do everything ourselves and I could tell it was wearing on her. I felt bad bringing up such topics in this condition, but I have never been much for lying.
“This book, well it’s more of an idea.”
“and that idea is?”
“Determinism” She didn’t know what that was, fuck I didn’t know what that was until I started reading, and researching it.
“It’s the theory that everything has a predetermined destination or place, even that of thought or action.” She says nothing, and nods.
“That is what you are trying to prove wrong?”
“Yes”
“That’s impossible.”
“It can’t be.”
“Why?”
“If everything has a predetermined destination, then we lose the freedom of individual right, choice, and self.”
“What do you mean?” Those dark, beautiful eyes size me up, and I roll to my stomach staring at the floor beneath me.
“If there is no choice, then there is no self, if there is no self, there is no being, if there is no being there is no existence, and we don’t exist.”
“That’s going overboard.” She’s right, well kind of. I’m stuck in a battle of logic vs. reality and I can’t seem to pull myself out of it. My goal was trying to find a mid-way or half-truth, something I could rely on to give me a sense of self.
“If a person can, with enough technology, determine every single action or reaction that you or I may have, then the only thing you have control over is how you actually feel this second, everything else is biologically predetermined and will happen because of genetics.”
~ Let me explain.
If you take a rock and throw it down a mountain can you predict exactly how it will fall and what it will hit? Can you predict, given all the possible outcomes, where it will land? How it will bounce off that tree and hit the boulder, then roll into the water? Most people will say yes. This confirms the fact that you then could predict, given all possible outcomes, the action or reaction a person will make in their life time. This then allows a person to know your “future” or predict it. Being that it is possible for someone to know your every move, there is no chance of freedom of choice. If there is no freedom of choice then I ask you how do we exist?

What I thought was poetry - Oh How I Loathe You . . . December

2011-08-08T05:12:00.000-07:00

Oh How I Loathe You . . . December

Give me your attention, Pitiful
You're bound to restart, sleepy again

I can't be convinced if I don't feel guilty
You gave me the world, but that world is not with me
I can not feel happy, I can not feel sad
I'm emotionally deformed, from all the anger I've had
And it's true, it hurts, and rage will sprout
So I will push it deep down, and you will spit it right out
And you think it's for you, but babe that's sex
In a world like mine things are more complex
And so your love and mine can't even compare
To what's part of me, lost in despair

So I look to the mothers to try and validate
Run my fingers through my heart try to Recreate

You're lucky if you've forgotten and have means to be limber
Because everything void leads back to December . . .

Julian S Lueck 12/27/04 12:34 P.M.
12/14/05, You're in good hands now

What my Party Invites look like . . . It's called "Insane"

2011-08-07T13:57:00.000-07:00

Victory and LeVay
And The Value of Privacy
LeVay squeezed herself into the opening of the door which contained some sort of party Victory had brought her to. She was, to say the least, the most appealing woman of the crowd. She had mid shoulder length hair of black, and large dark eyes that penetrated with every glance. She was sounded by lesbians, a PILE OF THEM, and they fiddled and looked away as LeVay searched for Victory. No sign. This was prime hunting time for LeVay. She turned slightly to the right, her body in perfect proportion with her turn. You wouldn’t find an imperfection of her exterior; it was like LeVay was a statue in history that would live on forever. Her body shape, that of which one would try to recreate as perfect over and over again, but never quite get it right . . .
And then Victory. Beautiful and Handsome. The finest of the AndroSexual selection.
Not mingling, not drinking, or staring off into space.
In fact Victory’s bright blue eyes, lovingly, casually, inappropriately were fixated on LeVay.
LeVay through her shoulders back and walked carelessly through the crowd heading with determination and speed to Victory.
10 feet
6 feet
2 feet away
And before you know it Victory’s body is smashed together with LeVays.
Breast to Breast
And with a smile
LeVay lets her lips barely caress Victory’s ear lobe.
“I knew you wanted to F**k.”
Trembling and helpless Victory’s breath deepened, and her heart began to pound, her temperature rose. There was nothing she could do. It was like an automatic reaction to the sweet sound of LeVay’s voice. Her shaking hand began to go down Victory’s body.
From the chest down she could feel LeVay’s lust as her own.
And when she got to the wet center of her desires, LeVay let out light moan in response. She pushed herself down, hard, demanding more from Victory.
“F**k me” she demanded.
And then.
“F**k me please” loud and pleading.
Victory grabbed her waist, picked her up, and slipped into the warm flesh awaiting her.
Again another moan, this one louder, making LeVay more vurnarable to the party who gathered to watch.
As Victory held her up and pushed her fingers in and out.
LeVay’s knees knocked the wall behind them.
Jane and Juliet, two odd ball hotties, sipped their drinks and giggled.
“This is one hell of a party”

Satanism Vs Atheism - Be Your Own God

2011-08-06T07:41:00.000-07:00

I have thought long and hard on the subject of which to call myself. Do I call myself a simple Atheist with a mission therefore making me a Satanist? Well if you have read the Satanic Bible you would surely know that Satanist are in fact Atheist. Now we are talking Modern Satanist (as always, I am) Not these kids with their dark clothes and dead animals. Hail Satan! But did you know I believe in my self as the Only Satan to exist, and the only God??? Satanism may seem scary or weird, or even childish, but until you actually speak to a Modern Satanist you probably have the completely wrong idea of what the religion is made of . . . if it is a religion at all ;)
- Me. I have, as of now Four Satanic Tattoos, along with animal tattoos that remind me day in and day out that I am simply an animal, no more and no less. This is one of the main principals in Modern Satanism. We believe in ourselves as both the good and the bad, and the natural ANIMAL! but I'm getting off topic . . .
The question I get most of the time is "Why call yourself a Satanist if you do not believe in a God or Devil or Heaven *chuckle* or Hell or any type of religion?
Well THAT took me a while to construe an adequate answer. I mean I knew why, I read the Satanic Bible, I had, in passing, met other LeVay Satanists who I then drew upon for feedback, I looked back at those individuals and realized they were the happiest, though very much solitary people. Never once had they tried to indoctrinate any of their beliefs into my fragile mind (age 16)But I know now why. You see their are no churches for the Modern Satanist. We stand behind the backbone of the Satanic Bible and laugh at those who think we worship the fictitious "Satan" of what other religions assume is bad, evil, what have you. The name itself is actually a giant joke on Christianity. Why? Read the Bible, Satan (in the end) got what ever he wanted (be it by the standards of good or evil) and his OWN KINGDOM! . . . just like God. Again I'm off topic and I hope that you read far enough into this to get to the good stuff. People need something to keep them motivated. Anything. Be it a stick with candy hanging from the top, we need something to live for. It's a simple fact. If we did not, we would all kill ourselves. Tonight an interesting conversation came up, when I slipped up and said something very discriminatory but not meant to harm others as I was surrounded by Atheists. I said "Atheists are the most depressing people I know" end sentence. -----silence---- Then from a friend of mine "Why?" in a shy little charming voice.
My answer. If everyone needs a purpose to be alive then Atheist out of all us have the hardest time finding that purpose. They do not believe in a higher power, yet they do not believe themselves as THE higher power. One must have a purpose in mind at all times. It is only natural and that is what being a Satanist is all about. Natural feelings, natural reactions, natural purpose. Do you think rabbits pray to Christ? nonsense Atheists first off where not always born atheists, most of the time they come from a religion that they grow to resent. So first you have a sense of lost, when dropping a religion and moving on to the next. And second you have a sense of betrayal because someone told you something you simply do not believe is real or feasible accurate. And third and most important is that Atheist believe in nothing. If you don't see yourself (at least) as the most important person in your life then what is your purpose??? Because sorry to break it to you Atheists but when you die, so does the world.
-J

Re: You're a Pleasure You're a DayDream

2011-07-27T14:01:00.003-07:00

Her attire consisted of a long days labor at the office. She swings her hair to the side, as she gently takes each step down to the corridor of her apartment. Her most exciting part of the day yet she feels nothing but sheer grief. Allie will meet her there. He is her only friend.
“Though hardly a friend at all.” Allie looks at her with his green narrow eyes blinking once or twice, as she tries to count, or remember how many times. Allie is a cat. A big stripped brown cat with the tail cut short. She shakes her head a bit.
“What do you mean, you ARE my only friend, you know that.”
“Given the circumstances it is you who only believes I’m your only friend. For I am a figment of your imagination, which doesn’t make me something solid as a friend would be.”
She taps her nails on the wood of the bench, and watches Allie ignore her and lick his back.
“But you are always there for me like a friend would be. You sit with me now after a hard day like a friend would do. I’ve had a very bad day Allie.”
And Allie turns his head slowly toward her, letting out a slight yawn.
“Yes yes you always have bad days, and I am always here.”
There was an awkward silence in the air. One that she felt lasted for days. She kept thinking of the words he was saying to her over and over. What was this day to her exactly?
“Do you know anyone else who talks to cats?”
“No Allie.”
“Do you think that everyone is lying to you about what we have? Did you think they were all lying?”
“I know Allie please, just be here for me.”
“But I can’t, exactly where am I? If I’m just in your head this whole thing makes no sense. Why did you make up my existence in the first place? The doctors, and your real friends told you I didn’t exist, and here you are. I love you Shayla but that is not the point, I can not be around forever.”
“I just want you to be there.”
She had tears in her eyes. Shayla didn’t wear make up so it was ok that she cried, but she didn’t want Allie to disappear just because he wanted to. He was her’s or so she thought. He had always said he would be there, always hers, at all times. She whips he face on her cardigan, but Allie doesn’t flinch doesn’t move to comfort her as he use to. She digs in her pockets and takes out three large pills. Red White Blue. She thinks of government, and reality, and decides that she doesn’t want to get involved.
“But I don’t want to be involved with you. Besides those things aren’t good for you.” Shayla looks at the pills in her hand and takes them any way, without water.
“Why does it matter? If you’re leaving what’s good and what’s not?”
“I care about you, don’t take them so much.”
“You’re leaving. If you are so bold as to say such a thing, these pills will make you go away faster.”
“Na ah na ah.” Allie turned completely away from her and jumped off the bench seemingly chasing an ant or something small on the ground. Shelia had an immense amount of rage inter her throat. She coughed then went down to pet Allie, only really wanting to hit him a bit.
“Why did you come here, just to lie, then leave me. You know where I’m going after this don’t you? You’re a fucking asshole.”
Allie sat and looked up at her.
“I didn’t create this. Look around you. You created it. Eventually something you make up will always disappear. Everyone told you! EVERYONE! They said I wouldn’t be here forever. They were right. You honestly think you are something special? Do you? Is it because of the pills? Do they give you power? Not with me they don’t!”
Allie began loosing his fur, his insides showing lightly as he began to disappear. Shelia couldn’t watch. She wouldn’t let herself watch this. Yes she did believe she was someone special, she did believe she had something special, but as she runs up the stairs and to her room, she only finds herself staring in the mirror at someone she has never known.

The Fundamentals of Murder (In Our Own Eyes - Klaudia)

2011-07-15T22:36:00.000-07:00

Klaudia
There is this bar, not far from my house, not close to the beach, but just in between. It’s a dive bar called The Square Bar, but it is obviously less then so. Let me explain my appearance, as it is a contradiction to that of the “should be dead or missing” crowd. I have mid-shoulder-length hair of auburn. My body is in perfect shape. Even the plainest of clothes I wear turns heads at any event. I guess this transformation, from the normal figure of my childhood body to that of perfection happened when I was in my teens. As I grew older, I was forced to quit high school because of this. At the time, I had fallen for a man who was much older, not attractive but had the money to make me famous and, at the time, that was all I wanted. He was my tutor and probably led me to my career of choice now, but he fucked like a beast in some wild jungle, leaving me with marks. I used this to set up a very successful blackmail which has kept me afloat, now and probably for the rest of my life. Back to The Square, though, where the odd-looking men at the small dive bar don’t know what to do with themselves. I turn slightly to the right, my body in perfect alignment with my turn. You wouldn’t find an exterior imperfection; it is as if I were a statue in history that would live on forever. My body shape, that which one would try to recreate perfectly over and over again, but never quite get right. This is not me being vain. These are simple facts. I would have been happy with any body that I was born with; it just happened that I got this one and, for that, there must be some reason. Today, I am only at the dive bar for a second or, should I say, ten minutes max. I down four shots of tequila before I get back into my Mercedes (thanks to Reverend Paul), which is holding the most precious gift. Earlier that evening, while I walked next to a local middle school on one of my typical nightly walks, I stumbled magically upon Fara, a 12-year-old girl whose pupils grew as her puppy dog eyes looked up to reach mine. It was a beautiful moment. I smiled back as if to say: “Yes, you are beautiful, as well.” Briefly, we engaged in an innocent flirtation that held no words, but only a moment. And now little Fara is packed tightly in my trunk, alive, but not as aware as one normally would be. What a treat it is to me, for I have a grand surprise for Fara; something that would change her life forever. I slam my last shot of tequila in the dingy bar, then, looking ever so bold and unapproachable, exit gracefully. When in my car, I turn down my normal opera blast to hear for the slightest movement from Fara in the trunk. Anything to know she is at least alive and conscious. Once satisfied with a couple thuds coming from behind, I give my engine a little roar and take off to my home by the beach.

Inside, the place is immaculate. There is no visual threat, nothing too shiny or imposing upon the eyes. The place seems rather home-like; a comforting, spacious lower apartment by the beach. The air, still and warm, makes my eyes close momentarily as I drag poor Fara in. She is tied up and gagged, but not hurt. I’m sure her poor brain is spinning, lost in endorphins and delusion. She must be contemplating reality. She struggles a bit, but it is useless and actually turns me on with hopes of dedication to survival. This will make for a more challenging conquest and a chill runs from my neck to the base of my tail bone. I want to ask her a million questions. I want to ask her how it feels. I want to tell her she will be dead in ten seconds, just to see what her eyes would project, but I know protocol and keep my mouth shut. I pull her to a small, dark room. The Punishment Room is what Jenn calls it, though really it’s nothing of the sort. When Jenn and I first got the apartment, there was an extra bedroom with no window. We thought of making it an office, but upon discovering each other’s interest, decided to make it a dungeon of sorts. I would say more of a relaxation room, like for yoga. Jenn called it the Punishment Room after our first fight. Jenn had come home late from work and, in the beginning, I had many fears about love, and was scared to actually be in love. It was hard for me to trust her because of that and, one thing leading to another, Jenn threw me in the room for almost half a day. I had needed it and, by all means had deserved it, but never again did she do anything to hurt me. I lay Fara down lightly against the wall to position her view correctly. For a moment, I stare admirably at her fragile figure and smile. Still wordless in the cold room, I walk over and open a small cooler,extracting a boy about the age of 6. He has brown-blond hair,his face is pale, and, from the look of it, I may have over-dosed him with sedatives. He is completely naked and is curled up like a newborn fetus. Fara’s eyes widen. She completely freezes against the wall, no longer struggling, as she watches the boy’s slow breath and faint eyes. Wordless, silent, cold, and dark, I watch them both, looking eagerly from one to the other with a smile on my face, as if admiring my best accomplishment. I decide to make the room a bit lighter for my own amusement, but at the same time a bit blurred, so I turn on a stained single yellow light bulb that dangles in the center of the room. At first, Fara doesn’t notice what is pinned against the center of the wall by the stairs; her eyes are still fixed on the boy. Once getting visual satisfaction from the atmosphere, I grab the boy by his shoulders and move him to the wall. The stop sign! My favorite of all things in this room! Jenn and I had built a number of torture devices together. Although she was much better at the manual work, I designed this one. On the center of the northwall , there is a stop sign-shaped device. Of course, it is bigger then a stop sign, three feet across every which way. It is made of simple pipes welded together with no middle. There is, at the top, an extra piece of metal, about a foot long, protruding from the top. I had Jenn drill a hole in the poles at each angle and one from the protruding pole at the top. It is a beautiful thing, but I eye the structure, inspecting it for any imperfection. The boy closes his eyes and curls around my feet as if falling asleep. With a little nudge, I move him out the way and walk over to make sure Fara is in the right position to have a full view of what I am about to do. I decide to untie Fara, enough for minor escape, given some strength and mental strategy, but not enough for her to actually get away. To my surprise, she doesn’t even make an attempt. She is stunned and I can see her life flashing before her eyes. A situation so bizarre had undoubtedly never happened to her or had even occurred to her. If anything, Fara should watch this happen. Even if she were to die, which was very likely, then she should take in what she could and not struggle. This is life. I walk away, again amused by small Fara, and grab a large ice pick from the cupboard above the refrigerator. With one hand, I pick up the small boy by the neck. He is light, yet dead weight. He feels almost like a piece of meat rather then an actual person and I suppose at such a young age you are not a person yet, so my feelings are understandable. I proceed to align his neck with the protruding top of the octagon. The boy is so thin that I hold him with the ease of hanging a picture. My arm flexes as I hold the boy tighter in place. My biceps, I can feel, are working to their full extent and a small amount of sweat drips down my forehead as I hold the ice pick tightly in my other hand. After finding a good enough arrangement, I pull back the ice pick with all my might and stab it deep into the boy’s neck and through a large hole that is welded through the extended top part of the octagon. I only have one chance to get this right. Otherwise, the whole place would be a mess and Fara maybe would feel differently about me. Everything could have been ruined, but it doesn’t happen that way. Perfect. For a minute, the boy flinches. His eyes shoot open and his muscles flex, but only momentarily, as he closes his eyes and relaxes, seeming to accept this torture. The boy is now dangling by his neck like a rag doll pinned to the octagon. I smile a bit and wipe the blood from my face, then turn to Fara, who is wide-eyed and stiff, sitting in a bird-like position. I walk over casually, almost sexually, to calm her and gain her trust. I untie her completely and, for the first time since we met, I speak to her. “You say a word and you ARE him.” Fara’s face shows no reaction. It seems as though she won’t or can’t speak. She no longer looks afraid or upset and this gives me that warm feeling I sometimes get when Jenn brings home new presents. Satisfied, I turn back to the boy, who is not yet dead, but very close. He looks almost peaceful and relaxed, so I take the scene in like a painting. A beautiful picture of death, in its truest, most brutal form. First, I tie the boy’s waist up with a rope, then go behind the octagon and fumble a bit before hoisting his dangling body up with a rope and hook that is drilled into the wall. His shoulders I lay flat on the octagon, so that I can nail each into place at the point of the angle. This is no easy job, getting everything right. I stress a little and wish Jenn was off work to help. I let out a small sigh then proceed to nail his shoulders and elbows to the corners of the octagon accordingly. The center of the stop sign, which naturally curls his body to the side, leaves his legs dangling. I take the boy’s wrists and nail them to the lower corners, now turning him completely frontal, and unveiling all of his body.
. . .
In Our Own Eyes

Girl, You Make Me Wanna Hate Rape

2011-06-13T07:59:00.000-07:00

Ok so I've been off the horse lately and writing a damn thing, nor can I think of fiction that would be published on blogger. So here is what happened I had the big D word. That's rick dick, just joshen Divorce -silence- Jenn and I will remain good friends but it just wasn't worken out. I can't really recall anything proactive I've done in the last few months, because of hideous amounts of drugs I had shoved down my throat so that I wouldn't hear my wife say (yell) insane things at me, and everyone else. . . So I guess now that i'm not on guard 24/7 for my life, I can relax and go out and meet people and interact again. Damn Damn Damn Marriage. This is why - seems like fun but really you are legally obligated to another human being. Why did I get married then? Why did I get married? Oh well. Life is golden. Especially when you call your mother on XTC and play the "guess what" game, then tell her "Mom, I don't know how else to say this" Dramatic "But I'm but fucking a bunch of trannies." Mom sighs and reply's back "Been there, done that." Props Moms Props

FICTION TO COME
pinky promise
and while you wait
manicmediainc.biz - I'm the mother fucking C E O

Sorry It's been so long . . . title "Stumbling Air"

2011-04-29T23:27:00.000-07:00

She pushes me away, small tears corner her eyes. What I couldn't understand was why she had loved me so much. Why love was never NEVER equal and why I had lost my mind in the past memories which is against my sole principle in life. The girl, now a woman, will never know how much I truly love her, and how much that love will hold strong. How did I know this? Because the years have passed and still I stare at her pictures like something real will come out of them. Like some-sort of reunited connection will magically appear and once again consume my meaning in life. What kind of fucked up love is that? If love at all. Engrained infatuation? My father. I look at him and I cry and cry and cry. I am and will always be one of those schmuck hopeless romantics who can not let go, and further more let past love dwell daily. My father was divorced by my mother in 1993, and still every year for her birthday he will drop off a small package containing a heart shaped box on her door step full of mint chocolates. My mother, in a drunken stupor, told me a couple years back that she hates mint chocolate, but she never had the heart to tell my father. It was just something she short term craved during her first pregnancy of my sister. Every year, no joke. He is not married and almost 60, and never has been in a solid relation (or any that I know of) since the divorce. Once in as I talk to him he silently cries as we discuss my childhood with him and her as a family. His love for her baffled me most my life. Well until now. Until I scroll through pictures of years ago and hold my breath. Everything about her stays fresh in my mind. Her beauty, her laughter, her kisses, everything. But I bet on everything I own she seldom even thinks of my name, much less remember a damn thing about me, and what we use to have. I can say with some retort that I am not my father. Yes, my feelings seem to stay the same though times flies forward, but I can love and love many the same. I am polyamorus. I always will be, and have been. Loving more than one person is so fulfilling and amazing, that now (after years of being poly)I couldn't imagine being monogamous. How boring, how complicated, how stressful and overwhelming. Today is the first day in a few months where I've truly felt sad mainly because of past memories.

And I'm not afraid to name, names. These people are very, very loved by me, and consume a portion of my brain that drives me wild.

I miss Embry's company and compassion. She is beautiful, charming, and I will ALWAYS wish she was just a little bit lesbian :) She is talented and probably will stay the most important person in my life, forever. The best of the best friend I could ever wish for. Truly, I love you Embry Elizabeth.

I miss Juliet, the Juliet to my Romeo love life. She like me is stumbling through the free life and loves deeper than anyone I've known. Just to know her makes me happy. And I knew I would fall in love with her from the first moment I laid eyes on her. O.K. cupid, you won! She is the most fierce lover, and gentle friend. I fucking love this girl so much.

I miss my son, Julian Soriano Lueck, the little me, the little him. The person I will never see and always miss. He has proven to me there is only one type on unconditional love, and that is of mother to child.

I miss Adrienne. Smart, funny, the most sexual inducing girlfriend I've had. She is the only one who plagued me with the beautiful mystery of her mind. On the desktop of my computer I still have her folder, and can't seem to hide or delete it. She is the girl I can say with all honesty, was too good for me, and I'm so glad that I had a small opportunity to be part of her life.

I miss Rachael. The one person who completely made me and then completely destroyed me. Heart pounding, blood rushing, delirium causing touches that me question if that state, that moment was even real. Though I would never be with or around her again, I will never stop loving her, never. And lastly I hate Jen Walker, but miss her so fucking much.

AND

I love you Jenn LuShags :)

I love you Madi.

I love you Panda.

I love you Gabe/Gabe. Both sides are truly amazing ;)

Seriously, while I'm working my ass off, I never want you guys to leave home . . . ever ;)

BUT with all the love in my life, I can say with confidence I could always love more. There are so many satan damn people in this world who mystify me with the essence of their being. I can't wait to get the bulk of my work done, so I can go out again and meet new people.

Sorry for Rambling, I meant this to be a short as per normal, but shit happens, and I will be on the fiction Short Story Road soon enough! Too busy I can't even think of writing fiction.

THIS IS WHY I HAVE NOT WRITTEN IN SO LONG

CHECK IT OUT! (even though it is a little lame, I'm a writer not a web designer)

Dear Atheists, Religion Lovers, Confused Agnostics, and Adam,

2011-03-24T22:04:00.000-07:00

If you believe the bible is full of simple analogies, then you are a follower of the reading rainbow as well. If you believe in any bible literally then I have full license to rape you without repercussion, unless you are a virgin in which case I must marry you. If "god" is all loving, why does "god" have wrath? Why does "he/she" forbid it? If there is a place of no bad, then please define what would be good? If you did not have a soul before you were born, why after? If you did show me proof. If you die now does not the world? If you can live on to see the world you are a vampire, so show me proof of that as well. If I died for your sins would you not recommend sinning, or would I die in vain? If you still believe in a god someone spoke of but that which never directly has proven "his" existence to you, you are by proxy, believing in that persons idea of "god". If you believe that others define what is right or wrong, but do NOT believe in a higher power, you are an atheist. If you DO believe in a Higher Power, all you are telling the world is that you are the Weaker Power of that which you cannot physically prove. If you say you do not agree or believe in anything at all, you are telling me that you have not the ability to comprehend common sense and you might as well default to a state of carelessness for your own present being. If you believe in making your own personal decisions on what is right and what is wrong, you are by definition a Modern Satanist. Sometimes a reality check is like catching your parents having sex, but if you have a brain you realize it's just sex and not god. If you disagree with what I have written, show me proof to why it does NOT make sense. If you don't want to be categorized by what you believe in, then you fall under the category of those which do not want to be defined, therefore are defining yourself as your own sect and are just as anyone else in the world. Is there not a whole population that who "does not want to be defined"? If you believe in something not proven by fact then you are delusional. If you only believe in that proven by fact then you are Satanist, you would NOT be an atheist because an Atheist believes in what the world defines as right and wrong, and what he or she defines as right and wrong. Atheist - One who disbelieves or denies the existence of God or gods. Hence an Atheist does Not believe in himself or his/her ideas of what should be, as the ultimate decision maker of what is "right" or "wrong". An atheist believes in NOT believing, even in one's self. Satanist - One who disbelieves or denies the existence of the idea of someone else's God, Gods, or Higher Power and believes only in him/herself. Therefore a Satanist is Satan and is God, and has only realized the ability to make sense or decisions based on what his/her idea of "good" and "bad" are. Dear Atheists, how can you have a value of "right" or "wrong" that should apply to you, if there is nothing absolute? If the world is round would you not tell someone who is walking for miles to stop trying to find the end? Don't piss on Satanists, they are just being honest. Satanists represent the opposite of having a Higher Power (or Religion as commonly viewed) and shed light on the ability for humankind to be moral people according to one's own idea of "bad" and "good" without any deity or faith. Whereas Atheists simply oppose religion. I like to call Atheists Half Satanists. You are almost there. The original Hebrew term, Satan, is a noun from a verb meaning primarily to, “obstruct, oppose.” Satanists obstruct, or oppose the older definition of religion, when religion was thought of as not a set of beliefs concerning the cause, nature, and purpose of the universe, but as a group of individuals who believe in a higher power. So, Atheists are half Satanists, because they believe not in the older/skewed definition of religion, but do not realize that they are actually categorized as a religion because of its modern definition. Religion actually is (by definition) a specific fundamental set of beliefs or practices generally agreed upon by a number of persons. So Atheists fall into that category by not believing together and giving themselves a name. Realization and acceptance of mankind as a scientifically proven animal is the main idea of Satanism. So Satanist's oppose the older idea of religion which is to believe we are created and do not simply exist, and accepts that he/she is formed by evolution and the scientific mechanics of the world, and does have control over what he/she does or does not do. This idea is shared along side with Atheists, however there is a lacking of identity and nature of one's self with all Atheists. That's the main separation between the two (Satanists and Atheists). The realization that you are indeed in control of your life, actions, and ideas is commonly thought as of arrogant when a Satanist will tell you it is plainly common sense. Atheism, by default, has to be a religion because they share a VERY common ground, that is that they believe No other religion is real or existent. This same fact goes with Satanism, only they realize that they are a religion and embrace that fact. The Modern Satanist, realizing he/she is religious, gathers facts and offers them to those whom can comprehend the nature of being. Those that cannot comprehend the natural state of being, normally do not see past the word "Satan" and/or understand it's meaning both comical and not, and by the Modern Satanist are not deserving of the entitlement to the religion of Satanism.

Not My Words, Non Fiction, Why I'm a Satanist :)

2011-03-04T05:10:00.000-08:00

If we hope and pray for something to come about, we will not act in a positive way which will make it happen. The Satanist, realizing that anything he gets is of his own doing, takes command of the situation instead of praying to god for it to happen. Positive thing and positive action add up to results.
The Satanist knows that if does no good, confessing to another human being like himself accomplishes even less, and is further more degrading.
When a Satanist commits a wrong, he knows it is natural to make mistakes, and if he knows he is truly SORRY about what he has done, he will learn from it and take care not to do the same thing again. IF he is not honestly sorry about what he has done, and knows he will do the same thing over and over, he has no business confessing and asking for forgiveness in the first place.
Human have created the entire system of God with nothing more than the carnal brain. Just because he (Human) has an ego and cannot accept it, he has had to externalize into some great spiritual device which he calls “GOD”
If man needs such a god, and recognizes that god, then he is worshiping and entity that a human being invented. Therefore, by proxy, he is worshiping the man that invented god. Is not more sensible to worship a god that he himself had created according to his own emotional needs and desires- one that best represents the very carnal and physical that has the idea-power to invent god in the first place?
Envy and Greed are the motivating forces of ambition. Gluttony is simply eating more then you need to in order to keep yourself alive. When you have over eaten to the point of obesity- another sin- Pride will motivate you to regain an appearance that brings on self respect.
Nature made lust the second most powerful instinct next to self preservation.
IF anger isn’t natural, then so isn’t self- defense.
Since all mans instincts lead him to sin, then all men are sinners, and all men are going to hell accordingly.

The Delusion of You

2011-02-17T10:44:00.000-08:00

Dearest Thoughts, you are driving me insane. I roam around each corner with a delirious head on this weaken body. Where did time go before I saw the end? And the truest memories of that of the past and of that of your glory are those in which bring me tears, those in which make me believe in true love, and how it plagues the essence of my existence. I drown myself in the wishes and hopes that someday you will be replaced in this corner of my mind. That someday, someone will ignite those chemicals that make up my love for you in my life. Trapped. Nailed to the floor, and stuck behind reality, I could Never feel so confident again as my youth now fades me with the trickles of past love blinding what future love could be, or won’t be, because of How I lost myself in those eyes. It is now that I have replaced love with comfort. It is now that I take a mental lashing every time I am forced into saying the things I no longer feel. Why? Because of You? Hardly. You were just sweeping along your half life in me, and running away screaming when the lights turned on and I revealed my true joy in your being. And like I said before I have now awaken to reality to find myself being pint up all these years due to your ungraceful exit. I should have never believed that everything in this world can be equal, because in time I have found myself in YOUR shoes, playing YOUR game. And I awake in the night screaming to myself. Screaming of the haunting of you and how even now as I write I cry, and cry out loud to the nothingness of the world THAT IT HAS BEEN FUCKING YEARS. Choked throat and full of the unlikeliest chance of seeing you before my time is over and the history of me gone. Our history, whatever fucked up thing I imagined it to be, Gone. Breathing heavy down the roads of yesterdays, I see only now how pathetically I threw those chemicals into your life, breathing down your throat, and demanding you feel the same. What guts I had were false delusions of pure reality. Before, before and again every memory of your being strikes out my current hopes of the future, and what love holds. Those memories of your smile still stab me to this day. They close my throat, water my eyes, turn my insides solid, and now, now I see why you had to leave me empty. Not even a word comes from you. That sentence itself driving me insane because I know it will always be this way. How I demanded so much, how stupid was I to believe that this heart clenched projection of the future was actually something real. Something returned by the ONLY one that had EVER released those fucking chemicals that make up divine and pure love. Yet, only on my part was that ever true. Only on the sidelines, did I sit daydreaming about your arrival. Never second guessing what role you had in my fairytale of us. Those were no rose colored glasses, it was and will always be me, alone, blindfold and in my fictitious clouds of what could be. So I distract, distract, distract, and pray to my morbid mind that this will one day fade. Please, please, let it fade. With so many of those in my life right at this point I cannot be consumed by past delusions of “Our” love. What can ANY one Person in my position do with this contradiction of everything a person strides for. To let it go. For me to empty those memories, and except the reality of those who actually care about me now, maybe even in the way I care so much for you still. The only question that stays present in my mind and holds strong to truth is this - When will I break and fall tumbling to the part of the world where there is nothing but loneliness and bullshit self fulfilling prophecies of the insane. Alone, that’s my fear, my potentially hazard of an existence, with all this love pint up, destroying me, consuming me, I love you.

I was the Apple of Her Eye . . . The Eye of Rejection

2011-02-17T08:25:00.000-08:00

Along a dark road, I sit and await your arrival. I don’t know where you have been this whole time, but it must be somewhere safe. Those eyes come closer and shine to me. My eyes I cut with foggy glass only to see clearer than before. I am not aware of your presence as I drink the night away. I am not someone’s allegory of a beautiful future. I am no savior. I sit beside the side walk and like you I am stuck in the delusional thing we call love. I wait and wait for something to happen, but it never does. I wake and cease the day with hopes and dreams of your arrival but you never come. You never will. I take each breath in knowing that, and bowing my head to some untainted god, wishing that only you would have the knowledge that I exist. I implore myself into you. I see the light from your eyes, and I wouldn’t want me either. Not after all this. Not after the bomb went off, and I stuck to higher grounds, while you surged the sea. You reign of some divine substance that I cannot consume. I cannot take in. I am not the person you see fit, nor do I. Distance is where I roam, searching for that next breath of fresh air. When it will come, I’ll be stooping low on my feet dwindling in the vast essence of the past. You will be loved, somewhere else far away. Untouchable. Unreachable. Not tainted by my simple hands. And I will go through with what is another one of these play ground delusions. I’ll spring in my step and rejoice in the fact that you will become a shell to me. Exterior. Something of the past that has no meaning as of now. Yet as time creeps on at this moment you are nothing but whole. You are lingering in my mouth as I inhale. I take a step back and memories flood in detail. All of which you broadcast your entire being into me. On top of me, fucking me. There was something there, was there not? It’s the meaning that will fade not the past. And when it does I’ll be bright and chipper waiting on the side lines for my ride to freedom. As of now, I am stuck here, with you in my head. Dreaming of a touch. Dreaming of a bastard tomorrow, which will never come. Because you will never see what I saw. And your words before jump through my head. As I had explained I lived in a road where I was everyone’s savior. I was some god forbidden goddess stuck in their blurry dreams. Do you recall? When I said nothing, and yet a portrait was painted of me, those who say I am the one and only. The love. The light. I would nod and laugh. I would watch them fall short of what I wanted. And now somehow I have become that. Without a word you have captured me and made me some creature, of those I so destroyed. Reluctantly I call out for you. Reluctantly I admit, you still hold something dear to me. Why? Am not what I use to despise? What brought us great laughter at the night as we would speak of the past? I am burdened by your being, not forever, yet I feel the thought of losing such a love is which would make life not possible to live. And I hold you dear to me. Though you’re so happily living in the real world. I hold you dear. I will keep holding, until the tide washes me back to sea.

Manic Media DBA Finally UP AND RUNNING

2011-02-16T18:19:00.000-08:00

Proposal for the "We Are All Animals" Tour

SIGNED BOOKS NOW AVAILABLE!!!

2011-02-16T07:53:00.000-08:00

GET YOURS AT MY NEW WEB STORE

Beautifully Landing . . .

2011-02-16T03:20:00.000-08:00

She wheeled around the corner at a speed no one should have gone, she almost hit a VW and a local early morning runner. She parked fast, jumped out fast and ran to the door awaiting a package eager and ready to see what her loved one had sent her. But no package arrived. It seemed the post had ignored her little white note stating to leave the package please. Her phone rings once, twice. Her disappointment made her feel undesirable to anyone on the other line. Yet, as she looked at her phone it said "Shanie" She answered without hesitation, out of breath she spoke.
"Hey!"
"No, not yet."
"What do you mean? You said you sent it."
"Where are you?"
Her lips went pale her eyes watered, ended the call with Shanie still talking. There something Shanie had always been liable for and that was her disappointment. Victory stepped inside her apartment in the middle of West Hollywood. Her long legs striding towards her bedroom. Victory had long black hair that matched her almost as equally black eyes. Her pale complexion always had her roommates looking. She had five in the small two bedroom. Beds on top of beds, but the rent was too much for her shitty retail job, and she never wanted to be alone anyway. Not alone except now. Everyone knew Shanie had fucked her over, it was obvious. The fights they would get into, both tall girls staring into each others face. Shanie would scream. "I never loved you and never will." Of course Victory would cry, her slim frame would shake, and one of her sexually suppressed roommates would be there to hold her, try to kiss her, try to get as close as possible. Not for comfort but for their own desires of her. Not that Victory didn't like what they all wanted from her. Her personality was equally as sexy as her body. To her, though, no ever compared to Shanie. Shanie had short hair that curled in small locks on her head, she had a beautiful dark cream colored skin that coated her stick like frame. Sometimes people would mistake her for a small boy, and that always had Victory wondering if she was a pedophile. "Fuck it" she said to herself. One of her male roommates noticed her distraught position and ran over, in the middle of making something, Victory suspects pancakes. She instantly flinched at his hug. She was no where near wanting to be around men, though she considered herself bisexual. She pushed him away a bit, then excused herself to the bedroom where Kimberly (a smaller girl that was pretty but not sexy)sat in front of her computer that was close to the ground. Kimberly looked up, and also noticed her watery eyes. "Again?" She asked. Though everyone in the house was seemingly grateful to live there they were slowly getting wary of the constant fighting.
"What happened?" She asked with a bit of hesitation, not really wanting to know what horrid thing had happened this time.
"Shanie" Victory paused, then walked across the bed and let herself fall onto the almost comfortable full size bed, that took up most of the room. She sighed.
"She is in Portland."
"I know, you told me about her trip." Said Kimberly in a kind of whisper. The tone of Kimberly was always small and polite. Maybe that is what took her potential to be sexy away. Other than that, Victory thought of her as a beautiful woman. That's why Kimberly was on of their girlfriends. Both Shanie and Victory, they lived a poly lifestyle, having one girlfriend after another. Victory needed attention, but for some reason she wanted Valerie instead. Valerie had a goth look, dark make up, pale skin (not so natural as Victory's)She was extremely short but rough and ready always. Victory admired that in Valerie. Kimberly would always just wait for Victory to make a move, yet Valerie would jump to Victory and basically rape her. That thought brought a smile to her face. She had forgotten about her conversation with Kimberly.
"I'm sorry" She heard. Being poly was hard with Shanie however. Poly meaning multi-love, so they were both free to date who they wanted. The thing that got Victory was the fact that Shanie had always liked, hit on, and eventually got with the same girls or boys that Victory had a taste for. It was as if Shanie was getting back at Victory for something she had never done, constantly making her in state of instability.
"Don't be." Victory said. Had Kimberly not been both her and Shanie's girlfriend, Victory would have run up and instantly raped her. But to Victory Kimberly had just liked anyone, fucked anyone in the clan of lovers and to Victory that small fact made her extremely uninterested and a little mad. How was it Shanie could make Victory constantly feel like she was a nobody, a loser, just part of the crowd. She laid staring at the ceiling and spoke not looking at Kimberly, not looking at anything in particular.
"My ex girlfriend is Portland, the ex that broke my heart. Remember her." She who was not to be named in the house. Everyone has a heavy break up but this one had always seemed to creep up on Victory, haunting her from time to time, making her completely frozen and unresponsive. Just tears would flow from her eyes. Rachael was her name, and every once in a while Victory would text her just to see if there was ever a chance. No one knew this. What her lovers knew was not to say her name. Kimberly knew who she was talking about.
"I didn't know she moved to Portland." She said softly, uncomfortably.
"Well the bitch did, and Shanie had to find her and fuck her." Dead silence. Of course Shanie was capable of that. She was capable of doing anything to hurt Victory. Victory wondered if she even loved Shanie anymore, or if it was just something she was use to. The hurt, the love Shanie swore on, the constant neediness of Shanie. She would do anything to not lose Victory, as she laid there her phone was constantly buzzing in her jacket pocket, she knew who it was, she knew the drill. Shanie would call it a mistake, and beg Victory to forgive her. If Victory didn't pick up, she could see Shanie hopping on the next flight home, to save their so-called love. They were married. Victory had thought of that as a mistake as well. Now married a year, their relationship was a rocky road of her hurting, and Shanie needing to hurt and be forgiven at any cost. Victory remembers only a couple of months of their newly married selves, Shanie had threaten to commit suicide if Victory didn't stay with her, after another one of their large fights. It was about drugs and money. Not they were lacking any of them, Shanie just seemed to disappear when she was on them, or recently off of them. She became another person. Not what Victory signed up for. True, it was Victory who confided in Shanie, telling her Rachael had moved to Portland and that she was terribly heart broken, but did Shanie have to go out of her way to fuck her. Her phone beeped. She looked down at the text. It read. "You know we like the same kind of woman, and they like us both too." That was always her excuse. Though Shanie and Victory looked nothing a like, Shanie had said that it simply their taste in people that made her fuck everyone that Victory adored. Yet, Shanie always came last. First it was Victory's date then girlfriend, then one day it would be a mission for Shanie to be with that person as well. Some sick obsession to do everything Victory did, even lovers. Victory sat up and stared at Kimberly watery eyed and full of pint up rage.
"Can I have the room to myself for a minute?" Kimberly knew what she needed it for, yet she wouldn't dare say a word about it. She simply nodded and rose to leave, shutting the door quietly behind her. Victory got up and went to the closet where she pulled out a small metal box. She took her jacket off, rolled up her sleeve taped on her vain and prepared to breath. The needle went in with ease, little by little reality faded for her. She dropped the needle and let herself fall back to the bed. Just as she was in a land of no feeling, nothing but physical bliss with blotted out reality, Valerie threw open the door with a giant smile on her face, and a hand full of roses. But her face turned bland. As she stepped on the needle laying on the floor.
"Fucking Victory." Victory began to laugh. Laugh it off, laugh off life. Valerie was wearing a different shade of gray upon her eyelids, her small proportionate frame haste-fully threw away the needle in a near by trash can. Her black hair with bright red under tones flew from side to side across her shoulders as she pounced atop Victory. Still, Victory's gaze hadn't strayed from the ceiling slightly to the side of Valerie's head. Valerie kissed her deep and hard, bringing her out her trance, but not quite to any sober state. Victory pulled back and laughed. She looked at Valerie. How amazingly beautiful she was. It was then that Victory noticed the flowers. Victory never got love presents from anyone but Shanie, she was suppose to feel surprised, but all she wanted to do was fuck the shit out of Valerie. Something to take her mind off of Shanie, despite Valerie just being another bitch that she HAD to share with Shanie. Valerie sat over her spreading her legs and raising her skirt a bit. Victory grabbed her by the back of her head and pulled her close.
"I fucking hate Shanie." She whispered. Then a small cute laugh came from Valerie.
"Of course you do." Behind her back, Valerie was the only one who agreed that Shanie was completely insane. The only reason she was with Shanie, or so Victory was told, was because of household rotation. This was something that Victory had made up and worked very well. There was a white board in the living room. On it were the days of the week. Written there was the scheduled rotation. V and V was written for this particular night. Victory kissed Valerie deep, letting her hands push up Valerie's tight black skirt even more, exposing her black scull underwear. Though Victory wasn't looking, she could feel Valerie grinding herself upon the hips of Victory. This turned her on even more, but this was not their room tonight and Victories phone kept buzzing. Constantly buzzing. Valerie stopped and picked up her phone. Victory still high and physically in harmony with the sexual tension of Valerie, tried to grab her phone from her, but very unsuccessfully. Valerie jumped up and answered the phone.
"Hey it's Valerie." Victory sat there in a dead stare, unable to do anything about the situation.
"Yeah, love ya too." Valerie said as she rolled her eyes.
"Tell her what?"
"Rachael? What the fuck is wrong with you?" Why did she have to say her name. Why? Victory laid back down and turned her back to Valerie not wanting her to see the tears begin to flow. It seemed Shanie ruined everything, Victory couldn't even enjoy her high.
"No, really you fucked up Shanie."
There was a long pause, with out a doubt Victory knew Shanie was trying to explain herself.
"I see. Still that's fucked."
Another pause and Victory had stopped silently crying. She just began to wonder if she had ever loved Shanie or if this whole thing was joke, some fraud of a relationship. Victory needed to be wanted, and Shanie needed to be obsessed with her. Lost in thought, and drugged out in some unhappy place, Victory heard Valerie in the far distant.
"Don't come home, that's stupid." Victory jumped up and grabbed the phone. She was going to say what she had to in order to keep from seeing Shanie.
"It's Victory."
"I love you, I don't care, enjoy your trip. We are Not breaking up." She hung up the phone not wanting to say anything else she truly didn't mean. When it came to Shanie hurting her, she felt no compassion or love for her. She didn't want a talk and she didn't want to see her face. Rage filled her, rage that would slowly go away in time, but Shanie never gave it time, so it fueled and fueled as it had been the past four months. Everyone seemed to be on Victory's side when the fights began, but Shanie would never listen to them, she would sprout out excuse after excuse, even if it didn't make sense, in Shanie's world she was always without a doubt harmless, honest, and right. Victory threw her buzzing phone to the floor. She took off her wedding rings, as she did when they would fight, and threw them to the trash.
"Oh don't, Victory." Valerie pulled them out the trash, stabbing her finger on the needle inside. She sat the rings on the table and blood started to run down her finger. Victory ran up to her, and grabbed her hand tight holding her fingers up. She licked her finger from upper palm where the blood had trailed to the tip of her finger, sucking on it lightly and staring deeply into Valerie's eyes. Valerie smiled and let her free hand roam Victory's body with no shame. The door opened, it was Kimberly. Taken back Kimberly shut the door half way.
"Juliet is here." The only girl that Victory had loved and in return had once loved her, and NOT Shanie. The problem was that Juliet no longer felt a sexual desire for Victory, there was some miss-communication in the past, or should I say a few, and it pushed Juliet far away from Victory, leaving Victory only desiring Juliet more, wanting her more, everything perfect about Juliet stuck in her head. Even though Rachael had been her love of a lifetime, when Juliet arrived all was lost in the world except the two of them. Softly she pushed Valerie a side. She ran to give Juliet a hug and a small kiss to her cheek. She was in the living room, standing in her glory. She had tattoos and a body that perfectly curved in all the right places. Her hair was short and colored differently all the time. Her face was made of porcelain, and Victory forgot her rolled up sleeve. She so badly wanted to take her and fuck her like they use to. Give her every bit herself and return get back such a sexual thrill that killed any other, even Rachael. Juliet pulled Victory off her and looked down at her arm. She sighed. Juliet was straight edge, and could never understand Victories drug use. True she had done heroin, but she hadn't done it in a year. Other drugs Victory did on a recreational level, but that was just the way she lived her life. She was exposed to drugs at the tender age of 11 years, and they had always been there. Victory pulled down her sleeve, her eyes closing a bit, the drugs still coursing through her veins.
"I love you"
A small laugh came from Juliet's lips, and she pulled Victory back to her, her breasts pressed up against Victory's. Tease. That's all Juliet had become.
"I love you too." As a friend she meant. Victory was stuck with this. She tried to express her love for Juliet many many times before, openly and honestly, yet Juliet simply didn't feel the same. Still whatever piece of Juliet she could have she wanted, she adored, and cherished.
"I came by to say happy Valentines Day"
Victory smiled lightly and put her head down, blushing. Valerie stepped out and stood by against the hallway door with a not so happy look spreading across her face. She didn't like Juliet. In fact the only one who did was Victory and of course Shanie. Victory looked back feeling bad, knowing she was being watched.
"It's my night with Valerie." She said blandly, not wanting to leave Juliet to leave.
"That's cool, I have a date." Why couldn't she just fucking date Victory???!! It wasn't jealousy so much as it felt as though she wasn't good enough.
"Where's Shanie?" Everyone in the room looked away staying out of it. Why did they so strongly agree with Victory and yet still stayed out of it, always.
"It doesn't matter." Victory said honestly. Right there, standing in her living room was a girl she had been after for a fucking year now. Victory let her hand travel from Juliet's shoulder to down her arm, to her hand, where she grabbed it and held on tight.
"Well, I'm going to be late." Victory frowned.
"Ah fine." She pulled Juliet's hand to her mouth and kissed it lightly. She then turned to Valerie still standing, looking not so eager to stay the night with Victory. Juliet said her goodbyes and left. Victory ran to the room and silenced her ringing phone. Shanie would stop at nothing. She then text Juliet (I hope you have fun love <3)Instantly her phone rang again. This time she picked up and said she was sleeping and that she would call Shanie tomorrow. That was the only way to keep her from having to "talk" that night. Valerie Strolled in the room and locked the door. Victory grabbed a small pipe from the desk and hit a bowl of hash. She handed the bowl to the now shirtless Valerie, who took it and sat beside her, letting her breast bounce again. It seemed the pot had amplified her high from before, and everything was where it should have been. She pulled off her long sleeve light blue shirt that read "Dear God, Fuck You." Topless together Valerie inhaled and began to kiss Victory letting the smoke seep out between their lips. Victory couldn't get turned on again, not after seeing Juliet. That's all that consumed her at the moment. It was as if Valerie had just wanted sex. She pulled away excusing herself to the bathroom. She stared in the long mirror searching for something beautiful, something to not make her do it. She couldn't. She could. The thought went back and forth in her head, until realization struck her. She could never be happy, not like this. She took a wad of toilet paper and jammed it her mouth. She reached under the cabinet and pulled out a small brown backpack ... 4 roll to the left 20 roll to the right 18 ... open and away she went digging in the bag, pulling out bottles. She wished that the drugs were the problem, she wished so desperatly that was the reasoning behind it all, her shitty life, her shitty feelings, her rejection and obsession. But no. Not now. Some people live, but everyone dies. She put it to her mouth in the center of the overflowing toilet paper. Quietness was a must. Politeness was a must. She reached to lock the door, and a quick change of mind floated her brain, but as she leaned her finger automatically pushed against in trigger. Maybe she was where she needed to be.

Rachel Isn't Bad

2011-02-02T02:40:00.000-08:00

3:33 AM
Shaudra walks through MY fucking door.
I broke up with her.
subconsciously
I dismantled her completely Because IaMnOtInToHeR
I have a liken for men better.
Back to the beginning
Cue
"Why The fuck won't you answer my texts"
Texts? Why? WTF?
"I'm sorry Shaudra but you just don't fit in here."
"Where?"
"In this writing"
"This writing?"
"This word"

Shaudra steps back hitting her head on the door, I don't notice much, or care for that matter. My world was crumbling because of her. If I didn't do what I was suppose to then SHE would take over what I
wrote
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
"I have it in my hands. Your precious *****. It's here in writing and i'll make copies" Threats, all I get from Shaudra is Threats.
Unfortuatly
I
Made
A
Mistake
fix it, fix it, fix it, fix it, fix it, fix it . . . Rachel
She is against the door. The door is shut. That stupid fucking door that leads to my apartment is a shit green color, and I reach my arm out past her to pad lock the door.
MY apartment?
It is a studio in Downtown Portland. It has shag carpet. It matches my short shaggy hair.
I am tall.
She is short,
SO FUCK HER!!!
being beautiful isn't always on the outside
But here I am
"I want you" She says
"I know you do" I say as if we had not ever fought over the ***** I wrote.
)
)
I put her to sleep. see it
!
!
!
Gun in hand I did not shoot
&
Hold any Mercy back
When I beat her to death.

IMPORTANT! GET YOUR MONEY BACK FROM OAKTREE PRESS

2011-01-29T10:37:00.000-08:00

OAKTREE PRESS STOLE ALL ROYALTIES FROM ME BEGINNING MAY 2010

I WILL BRING YOU DOWN!

YOU DO NOT PAY YOUR AUTHORS!
RIP OFF ALERT!

THE REAL IN OUR OWN EYES IS HERE

THE FAKE IS HERE-
BRING OAK TREE DOWN BY WRITING A REVIEW

ALSO BY ME

THE POWER OF TAKING

IF YOU REALLY WANT TO TAKE HER DOWN HER NAME IS
BILLIE JOHNSON
EMAIL oaktreepress@yahoo.com AND oaktreepub@aol.com

SITE IS A SCAM!!!!! http://www.oaktreebooks.com
BLOG IS A SCAM!!!!! http://otpblog.blogspot.com

I had a dream upon waking . . . you

2011-01-29T06:18:00.000-08:00

She slides herself to the furthest corner of the box-like home, and yet still people are running into her, smashing her fingers, spilling her drink. Where was Scott? My ride for the night. The idea of this stupid party. Her jet black medium length hair wraps around her shoulders and she waves it from side to side as if dancing.
"What did you just put in my hair?" LeVay said to some strange looking but mostly and very much so attractive man.
"Nothing" He almost whispered but nothing came out. Still she feels something tangled in her shiny locks. She appears as if she is about to scream. The boy, this mystery boy and this mystery girl they play with her hair spreading it out to see what was inside.
"Ah ha!" The boy says gingerly and pulls out a toothpick from her hair.
"That shit is nasty, fuck." Silence. Well, silence between the two of them. Random people are still body rubbing back and forth through the party and making weird drunk noises. She pulls him close before he gets run over by an elf.
"Thanks" She says, daring not to look him in the eye. His proportion was so correct it would make anyone uncomfortable, including the same sex. His dark eyes dotted the room and his natural blue black hair was moist with fresh pomade. It seemed that was the only thing that made him attractive, that is, his proportion. His skin and everything else was just a big mistake.
"Strange" She said out loud and to herself.
"what is?" The 5'11'' man said.
"My names Chisto." His mouth now revealing a set of perfect white, and almost scary teeth.
"I'm LeVay"
"What" He moved closer
"LeVay"
"Is that a girls name?" LeVay shook her head and began to maneuver herself away from him, yet he kept, at great speed must I add, to her heels.
She stopped dead in her tracks. Dead being the key word. The party had ceased to move, everyone locked in their position. No noise. No movement. No smell. And yet LeVay could walk about freely. She stole someone's cigarette (which at the time was still burning)and held it to her mouth.
"Victory, wake me up for fucks sake." Her body felt like it was buzzing. It was light and she could no longer keep her eyes open. Normally she would have just instantly awoke from a dream like this, but now she was stuck in some purgatory.
When LeVay opened her eyes she was staring at someone familiar,someone sweet, someone she loved with all of her heart. It was girl named Victory. Just like the boy in her dreams you couldn't specify what exactly made her beautiful, but she was just that. The most beautiful person LeVay had ever laid eyes on. She yawned and stretched out her legs as Victory gave her a small peck on the cheek.
"Where am I?" She asked
"Silly silly you fell asleep by the tree next to the river. Good thing though because Emma was going to shoot you dead." Oh yes Emma, Victory's mother. All LeVay knew and could ever know was that 1.She will always love Victory 2. Emma and Victory were the only two people in her world 3.She was located somewhere in mid-east North America and 4.Emma wanted her dead. LeVay stood up and shook off as the moldy beautiful greens of the forest had clung to her during her slumber.
"It didn't all come off." Victory said with her big brown eyes piercing through LeVay. Victory stood and began to undress.
"Why are we wearing our clothes?"
"I'm not sure" LeVay said as she pulled off her shirt exposing her breasts to the wilderness and to Victory. Victory's eyes widened.
"You are so beautiful, I don't know what I am going to do with out you."
"When will you be without me?"
"When you die." Victory said with watery eyes.
"When I die, I will be with you always." Victory smiled a pitiful smile.
The girls were young and beautiful. They paired together perfectly. LeVay drew Victory close as close could be. Their bodies mashed together, soft skin yet taught and full of youth. Victory kissed LeVay deeply and LeVays mind went into a blissful peace.
"We can never be apart." Victory said with conviction.
"It is not I who will leave you."
"Then it is settled" Victory pulled back, still holding on to LaVey and they began to dance in circles beneath the old oaks of the forest.
Their loving dance went on for what seemed like hours. Each girl caressing the other in the deep green of the forest.
"No one will find us here." But as soon as LeVay said that a small boy about the age of six came running towards them throwing aside twigs and leaves.
"Emma's gonna get you."
"Oh shut up Billy" Victory said with her arms still locked around LeVay.
"Emma's right behind me. She was just about a hop away when I started runnen."
Victory laid against the tree and LeVay with her at her side.
"I don't know if I can do this anymore." Victory said with tears streaming down her face.
"shhh, no it's ok." LeVay held Victory in her arms and then ran her fingers through her hair looking back at Billy. Why was it always Billy? In the distance a dark shadow appeared.
"Tell me it's not over." Victory pleaded.
"It's not" LeVay lied. The dark shadow began to engulf the north side of the forest. And Victory started to pull away.
"Don't Leave!" LeVay begged, but Victory was running as fast as she could, south away from the darkness. LeVay began to cry heavy tears then wiped the snot on her bundled up shirt lying on the forest grass. The darkness was now spreading west and east. Nothing could stop it, and LeVay knew that. In the center of the the darkness there was light and in that light the face of an old woman. Her face. LeVay's Face. Suddenly all the forest was gone and LeVay and Emma sit side by side on cot in downtown New york. LeVay wasn't old, she just appeared to be as such. Both her and Emma in their 40's appeared to be in their 60's. LeVay looked over at Emma in the dark filthy dirty studio. Emma was aiming for her main vein on her arm, but couldn't make it, thus leaving stabbing holes in Emma's arm. LeVay looked down. Dirty collared shirt, no panties, filthy mattress. Would she ever tell Emma of the love affair she had with Victory for some twenty years now?
"It's gone" Emma said as she pushed the needle deep into her vein.
"All of it is gone."
LeVay got up.
Went to the closet seemingly to get some clothes
She then turned around for Emma's viewing.
And let the gun go off in her mouth.
The End

My Mind has lost its Reality, Buy my Fucking book

2011-01-28T15:55:00.000-08:00

Great news Cult Fans!!!

First I have to say .. . if you haven't already done so
BUY MY BOOKS!!!!

THE POWER OF TAKING

AND MY BEST OF THE BEST

IN OUR OWN EYES .. . A SERIAL KILLERS GUIDE TO LOVE

SECOND AND MOST IMPORTANTLY I WILL BE DOING MY FIRST BOOK SIGNING IN SAN FRAN AT VEGAN OWNED AND OPPORATED CINAHOLIC! IF YOU DON'T KNOW WHERE IT IS LOCATED AT PLEASE FEEL FREE TO CONTACT ME.

Process of people, The future

2011-01-04T17:09:00.000-08:00

The Future
Stacy who?
We are walking again. We are walking again in this heat, I couldn’t believe how hot it would get in the summers now a days. I would say at least 110 degrees, or more. No wonder people thought the world was over. Stacy is standing in her dirty, now bloody smocks taping her fingers against the broken glass of a car window, the others were a bit behind.
“So how do you come into play?” She looked at me with curiosity all over her face. I blushed.
“Either I’m just the tour guide or . . .”
“Or What?” Stacy demanded not knowing what I was embarrassed about.
“Or WHAT??” She said again with great passion. I looked over at her needing eyes, they were searching my face, looking for answers but I had none, no one did, except maybe that fuck Julian.
“Randle Ellington!” Cyn cried out, as she had sped up and was now nearing us. Great now I could change the subject.
Cyn carefully examined Stacy head to toe. Her eyes then drifted to me, then back to Stacy.
“Are you two fucking?”
“NO” We both said in sync. I was almost a little held back by it, but when I looked over Stacy’s dark eyes read the same. We had a brief but not so innocent connection. Stacy rolled her head, cracking her neck.
“Please, Cyn? It’s Cyn Right? Please I’m not fucking him, don’t attack me anymore. He is all yours.”
“Gross” Cyn said with a smirk on her face. She was so child like sometimes I felt bad for the sort of relationship we did have. The love, but not the loving. Stacy turned her eyes towards me and my heart started pumping something fierce, it was then that Julian and Steven caught up, and all us were lounging in the heat, taking a break, but not really.
“Or What Randle?” Everyone else seemed confused. Everyone but Stacy and I and our little fuck God, Julian. He strolled up to us as if he had been in the conversation the whole time.
“Or he reproduces the world of humans.” No, I’m too old, I couldn’t. I wanted to say that but my throat was clogged and my eyes began to water. I didn’t want Stacy to think I was after her, I mean she was the last “Woman” survivor. She looked down and blushed, and that’s when Cyn cut in.
“Well, Little Man” She said running up and holding his small hand in hers “I’m not reproducing the world with anyone.” Julian began to laugh oddly enough, but they looked cute together side by side, holding hands, almost the same height, and weight. I wanted to snatch Cyn away. I knew why Julian was laughing. She NEEDED him to help reproduce, but Cyn would be hard to nail down, now or in the future. He playfully punched her shoulder.
“Not with you, you are different, we all have our parts.” Cyn’s blue eyes followed his every word, and she seemed to be entranced for a moment by this little fucking messiah. Stacy blushed, I blushed, we looked up to see each other blushing for a moment, then quickly turned to look anywhere else but each at each other, it was like high school all over again. Cyn cause on to this and laughed.
“Nice babies you guys will make.”
“Cyn!” I yelled wanting her to shut the fuck up, she would ruin my chances. Wise. Old. Steven. He walked up calmly and placed his hand on Cyn’s shoulder, then on Julian’s. Cyn and Julian were holding hands and oddly enough I wasn’t jealous, just curious with this display of affection. Maybe Cyn was trying to piss me off, but she had said she never wanted him to even touch her, I didn’t understand, but I guess I never will. Steven spoke slow and long, like narrating a fiction story, nothing like real life.
“It will all work out in the end, you will see. As for now, no babies alright? Keep it in your pants . . .” and he gave me a little look that offended me “And let’s keep moving.” Even Stacy had my defense on this one.
“It’s in his pants, for fucks sake.” She whispered toward Steven when we began to walk, but her whispers got caught in the wind and were just floating away to nowhere. She held my hand now, and my palms began to sweat. How old was I around her? I could be much more gentleman like, but I guess it wasn’t in my nature. Cyn spotted this, and repeated Stevens words.
“It’s under control, thank you Cyn.” I hissed. She laughed loudly, and we all headed off into the sunny day. Slowly the houses and torn down commercial buildings began to disappear. There were few and few in between the hot deep path of nothingness. If I kept going like this, IF WE kept going like this, we would surely be lost, I am no human navigation.
“Steven, I think we should turn around.” But he had stopped and was looking to his right. I stared with him straining my eyes, but I couldn’t see a damn thing. I walked up closer and saw cars in the distance. No people in sight, and silence fell around me. Stacy woke us all up.
“What Highway is that?”
“The Fifteen.” Steven said in his old wise man voice. This was something that was starting to get on my nerves, and even more so he was standing a bit too close to Stacy. I had to gain her attention.
“Well,” I said quite loudly so everyone could hear. “I’m The Fucking GPS of this crew, let’s just follow the paved road, and look for food, and drinks inside the cars. And Stacy . . .” She looked over at me with a little bit of embarrassment on her face, I couldn’t figure out why. Why were women so difficult to read.
“Stacy, find some damn clothes to put on, you look like you just got out of a car accident.”
“Yeah, if the Car was my fucking fists.” Cyn said spitefully and let go of Julian then began to walk towards the cars in the short distance.
“Careful Now Cyn.” I scolded, rather harshly. I didn’t want her going anywhere alone, not out in the open like this. I grabbed Stacy’s hand and she looked up at me, her eyes so beautiful I almost could have tears in my eyes, but the sun was blasting away any moisture. She followed me, to catch up with Cyn, telling me how much she despised “That Litte Cunt” and I didn’t blame her, If I had gotten my ass kicked by someone half my age I would have been pissed too. Julian and Steven trailed about us, going from one side to the other, their eyes like hawks, prowling the area for any type of movement. But there was none. As we approached the car Stacy finally asked me what my relation to Cyn was. Cyn, by then had found some Honey Roasted Peanuts and poured some into my hand, before I could even grasp Stacy’s question I was munching away.
“He use to be my Client.” Cyn said with a sneer.
Everyone stopped and looked at me. Client was a big word. It could mean anything form sex to acupuncture to drugs, but of course everyone assumed the worst.
“I’ll tell you later.” I whispered at Stacy, yet everyone I think heard, and my face was, once again, bright red. Stacy shook her head in a no like fashion.
“Don’t worry, Stacy Pie, We never fucked.” Cyn said with peanuts coming out her mouth. Good, Great, It had to be said, but I was hoping now in such a vulgar fashion. The sun began to set, and Julian’s sweet and salty lips parted slowly.
“Let’s sleep in the cars.”
“I don’t want us splitting up.” For some odd reason Cyn looked hurt, but hurt by what? Again, another thing I couldn’t understand about women.
“We won’t Rands, You and I can take the Front of this SUV and everyone else in the back.”
“I’m not piling on top of each other!” Cyn demanded, she then suggested Her and Julian take a car, and the three of us could sleep in the SUV. She had an uneasy look about her, and as we all agreed on this she walked beside me putting her small arm about my waste. I wasn’t looking, but I’m sure Stacy was.
“I’m not going to have sex with Julian, that’s like rape you know?” She said in an odd was that didn’t sound convincing at all.
“I don’t care if you do.” I lied.
“No, Really he is what?”
“Thirteen.”
“Sick.”
“You are only four years older, he is way closer to you than me.” Cyn shrugged, and Stacy was digging in the back of the SUV, apparently she found clothing from someone who started to pack up and leave. It was a good thing we lived in L.A. where many people were around the same size, and that size being thin. Why even if you put Cyn and Stacy side by side, you would think of them as relatives. Stacy began to undress, while Steven removed the one woman corpse that was in the car. Dead body, Small hole on her upper arm where she had been injected. I thought of Stacy, and saw Julian looking at her! I put my hands over his eyes. None of us seemed to be bothered by the Corpse, but a woman undressing was a totally different story. The way Stacy did it she had no shame, and when she was dressed, she looked at me for approval. I smiled, and she seemed to catch it and return the gift, my heart felt light, then Julian interrupted.
“Good Night.” He stated loudly and held Cyn’s hand as she looked at me wistfully and walked away, seeming as though she was a prisoner of some sort, I wanted to save her, but knew she really wanted to be around Julian, for it was her that was holding so tightly Julian’s hand, not the opposite. We said our goodnights, and climbed into the stinky SUV. I felt as though we were abandoning our children, I looked to Steven and could tell her felt the same. We sat side by side in the front. Stacy was getting clothes out for us to use as pillows.
“They will be ok.”
“You sure about that, Steven?”
“Yeah, he has a wonderful gift you know.” Of course he did. He was always the topic of conversation. He was our God, our Devil and anything in between, all because he had a fucking flail attached to his arm, and the ability to know people through simple touch.
“He’s just a kid.” I said trying to make him human in my brain.
“I know.” There was a pause, a silence, I felt Julian was human just by Steven’s simple words. I began to think back on the scared little boy I had talked to, yes, Julian Carlson was human. Stacy slammed the trunk and began walking up.
“Get back there.” And he nodded back his head a bit.
“No” I said coolly, and calm, though a little bit of embarrassment might have slipped out.
“She wants your protection.” Who was I to protect Stacy? I had let her down so many times in the past.
“Trust me.” He urged, and Stacy opened up the back door and crawled inside laying the seats down.
“Randle?” She said in a sleepy voice, that made her sound much younger.
“See” said Steven, and I a bit reluctantly made my way to the back seat.
“Don’t worry anymore Stacy, go to sleep.” She yawned as I laid next to her.
Barely speaking now she slipped out “Who is Cyn?”
“Just a friend.” And I put my arm around her. She didn’t move, and my whole body tingled with joy. I had not held a woman in years.
“I am just a Mentor type to her.” But it was too late Stacy was asleep, and lightly snoring, it was cute, and I smiled big and rested my head behind hers on someone’s fluffy towel.
“Goodnight” I heard Steven from the front.
“Goodnight Man” I said “Goodnight” but it was too low for him to hear, soon he would be snoring too, only loudly and I would be the only one awake. I tried to sleep but like most nights now a days I couldn’t. I gradually let Stacy got and mumbled something. I slipped out of the door, and in the moon light I saw Cyn. Half dressed, shining and beautiful. She stood before me as an angel, and nothing could come out of my throat. I wanted to grab her and hug her so bad. Why was she up? Where was Julian?

I'M ON TWITTER NOW . . . and I feel defeated

2011-01-02T14:05:00.000-08:00

FreeeGoat

YES HATE MAILIE TIME!!!!!!!

2010-12-26T15:26:00.000-08:00

So I just posted a blog, and in return got this . . .

Anonymous said...

Just like any ANY religion, anyone needing a book for self help, you are NO DIFFERENT! Just as fucking sad. You really needed a fucking book? This is why us as humans have failed.
December 26, 2010 2:42 PM
Anonymous said...

Animals use instinct, not a book. NOT A FUCKING BOOK FROM SOME FUCKING MORON. Wooo I wrote a book with answers. Sounds like just another religion. Just another excuse for selfishness. Just another stupid fucking excuse. PERIOD!

You really need to stop using animals in your example. You are from from one. Just like any other religion you fucking judge others too. What makes you ANY fucking different. From what I read you failed.

PLEASE READ THROUGH AS I GO ALONG
point 1. Humans have NOT failed we are evolving, soon religion will be something of the past Even Satanism. P.S. I didn't NEED the book, words are words are fucking words. If this idiot had read the Satanic Bible Maybe just Maybe he wouldn't be so ignorant.

point 2. Yes, I judge others, natural, everyone does, consciously or subconsciously. I am an animal, everyone is, so why deny that? Scientology? Wait I was confused. . . And I'm actually THRIVING, so I have not failed one bit, sorry dumb ass

Satan is a Friend of Mine

2010-12-26T13:38:00.000-08:00

When I hear the word "Satanist" come out of peoples mouths I do not flinch or go into some dark place. I do not picture the burning gates of some made up hell. I feel only proud and happy. Why? Because if you haven't noticed MOST Satanist are happy with their lives. It has been a far fetched dream of mine to actually counsel those in need, using Satanistic tactics, yet removing the stigma that is so heavily placed on the word itself. Truth be told I believe in no such devil. BUT I do believe unlike an atheist. What do I believe in? Myself. I am my own redeemer, I am my own devil. It has been feeling good lately to be around people who can relate and accept me, instead of just ignoring it, or arguing my religion of choice. My home, my friends, my lovers past and present all support Satanism. The biggest question I get asked is "If it's just a self help book why is it called Satanism? Wouldn't that turn people off? and Why does it have to be a whole religion?" Well bitches read the first half of the Satanic bible (which is basically Modern Satanism) and get back to me. You see I don't think I've quite explained myself and what I stand for to many of you out there. You guys probably just think I'm some dramatic, dark, believes in the devil Satanist, who writes weird shit. Ok the last part is true, I will admit. BUT BUT BUT let me explain the title so there are no grey areas with the name. Satanists call themselves Satanist because if you really do just sit down and read the bible you would see that "Satan" got what he wanted ALL THE TIME, and was happy, and Ended up OWNING his own kingdom. How cool is that? Yet, everyone else in the book suffers because of these so called sins when in reality they are a natural part of life. You don't tell a lion not to fuck another lion just because it's lustful pfft. So anyway, what is the number one religion that has taken over, and KILLED (yes, I said Killed) the most people? Christianity, and yet today we even abide by these silly principles that are UNNATURAL, and mentally unhealthy, because of what? Tradition? Tradition is a old word. Non-existent. We must all come to realize that we ARE evolving!!!!!! Great news, now lets speed up the pace so that we can all be on the same page. Anyway back to the name. The name is really something that (at first) I wasn't too comfortable with, but once found out the meaning behind the name and how utterly comical and degrading to the Christian Religion, I fully embraced it. I can say with pure honestly my life had dramatically changed since I became a Satanist. I am, to say the least, happy at almost every point in time in my life, and I have learned to love those only deserving, with that respect I in return get the greatest gift of pure love back. They see how concentrated I am on them and they have returned that. Also a Satanists goal is not to drag people in and brain wash, that is up to Christians, Satanists only respect those who get it. I have a very strong belief in people who simply Can and people who simply Can't. Those who can, do many things with there lives, while on the flip side those who can't live a drawn out mediocre life awaiting death. Yes, many people walk around this earth awaiting death. Why? Life is NOW, and present time is the only thing you have, so live it up! Also the fact that we are so arrogant to believe that we deserve a blissful after life forever and ever is fucking down right retarded. You were not in existent before your life, why the fuck do you think you will be after?? If someone has a good solid scientific explanation of that, then please indulge me and I'm going to Sunday mass, with a fucking white robe on. Ok but seriously Satanism is by far the best thing I have stumbled upon in my life, therefore I thought maybe I would give a little insight to the world. If any of you have any questions feel free to email me at janewriteright@gmail.com
Love and love and love and love
and Happiness
J

I MADE THE LIST! and women are fucking nuts. . . Hate List Time

2010-12-15T13:22:00.000-08:00

1.Stupid Poetry (if you can't condense your words into something at least pretty then don't put your shit out there . . . cough cough . . . parker)
2.PORTLAND PORTLAND PORTLAND so I took an unexpected vaca to Portland, where I realized a couple of things I hate
A.Fake Vegans (those who just say they are vegan but could give shit about actual animals)
B.Bicyclist (why would you ride your fucking bike at two in the morning in the rain with it being 30 degrees outside?????)
C."we are a non corporation city, . . . btw Fred Myer owns us" Enough said.
3. Stupid sheltered people that aren't open to shit but are smart? what a waste!
4. Salvia (only because I watched "Gardening on Salvia" on youtube. Again pointless
5. COLD WEATHER/RAINY weather (missed you LA so much so much)
6. Snow, (I'm an iceophobic)
7. The court system (custody battles are NOT cheap or Easy, even in severe situations)
8. Hate the smiths (the just popped in my head, sorry smiths fans)
9. Liars (I think that's everyone)specifically manipulative liars
10. Sexual Orientation (It just doesn't exist)
11. Colds (because i'm a smoker it lasts forever, and no i won't quit just because i'm sick)
12. People who are Afraid to Live . . . pussys
13. The Post Office, DMV, and Social Security Office. (where is all my shit?)

Now for the I LOVE LIST
1. UM my fucking book made the list!!!!!
2. Polyness
3. Jenn and Jaclyn and Juliet and Angel
5. Our upcoming BOOK/MUSIC tour in 2011!!!
6. Faced (inside joke, sorry guys)
7. Not sleeping and being able to see morning twilight (thank you coffee!!!)
8. Coffee!!!
9. The Create Room in my house.
10. HAIR fucking hair, I'm so obsessed with hair, that if I see someone with good hair I stare them down, and usually they misinterpret that)
12. All the make up I have (I know what it sounds like, but I like doing EXTREME runway make up, it's fucking artistic ok!)
13. Satanism (It saves people from destroying relationships and themselves)AND NO I DON'T BELIEVE IN A GOD OR DEVIL!
14. My touch screen computer. . . PC ARE better, sorry mac kids
15. The blood Type diet (meat milk and cheese, i'm O-)

Ok i'll stop Rambling again because it's still last night for me! Fiction will come soon, promise!

The Traces of Your Being Still Haunt Me Beautifully

2010-12-02T05:10:00.000-08:00

When I looked in the mirror I couldn't recognize the face, where had it been, stuck in someone's dreams, nightmares or not, I still wanted to be in those dreams. If only I could have had the opportunity. Nothing stings me more than the absent of your presence. Or rather the absences of mine, because every day every small thing reminds me of what was once so purely divine. I never knew love before I met your face. I never knew beauty until I had you in my arms. I never knew words until you wrote such beautiful things. You said "I love you" so many times, and now you are so far away. What I did was love you. What you did was hate that love. Running far from me, and never looking back, as I wallow in what small taste of love really is. Did you not understand that you changed me. How much you did to change me. How much you impacted me like fucking wrecking ball tearing down a thing I call surviving. And now I'm not, just lost. Forever lost, and searching, balancing, holding my tears back every second of the day, forgetting there is life and death. Forgetting myself. Forgetting that you told me it would Never work. Here I sit a waste of yours and you can't speak, you can't see, you can't hold or feel. You won't let yourself see what was and is true love. And if it is, so it is, that you don't feel the same, then yes I am the fool. I am the sucker. I was sucked up into you and this fantasy of everlasting love. Who could expect that? All that was said, and played up to be something that could never exist. Why tell such a strong woman such fairy tales! Yet, here I weep, with the people that love me. Where I'll be I have no idea. What will happen will amaze me anyway it flows, but I do know one thing for sure and that is that you Don't love me, or never did. That hole sucks me in takes me like a prisoner and traps me inside waiting and wishing to die. This was no Romeo and Juliet. This was nothing equal. This was pure proof that there is no such thing as unconditional love. This one sided game we played for so long, who did you think I was, because I knew all of you. The bad and the good, I loved it all. And I sit and I sit and I sit waiting for you to come back and just say hello, but my god how love stories do not go like that. My sitting by the shore will last forever. I will be in the cold California beaches waiting for a sign of hope. I will be reserved by other people just because I miss your untamed admiration, and need something to compare, anything. Then out of no where there is someone else, one that you could not deny. And by no means Do I mean cheating, but yes I do mean not being back of this enormous bus carried only by you. When a friend sat near, she whispered in my ear "It is not fair for you to love." I believed her, and still do. It was only truth she meant nothing malicious by it. Fairness. This is where I depart. I extract. I remove. I sit by the ocean side and contemplate ever god damn aspect of my life. Does it mean what it should? Am I doing what I should, when I'm not with you I'm nowhere. My head so high up into the clouds its stings my brain, and my heart barely beating. I was lost in love in those arms, now I'm lost holding myself to try and understand . . . why

You See Me Stringing You Along . . .

2010-12-01T20:09:00.000-08:00

The sky is always dark. It reminds me of Vegas. I see nothing, feel much, and slowly destroying my body with chemicals that get stuck in my head. I love it. End of story. The one ways are leading up to some-sort of monogamy that just isn't who I am. I like to keep things the way they are, yet so much of me is changing. I stare and stare out the window, hoping the sun will rise, if only for a second. I need it so badly. I look behind me and there are those I love doing the most random of things. I sigh heavy. Who is to say Sexuality isn't fluent? Again I'm thinking of those back home. How they feel and where they are at in my life, like a fucking blueprint I urge for it. I wanted it all laid out before me so I can know truth in others and how they feel, though feelings can sometimes if not always be false in nature. I run my fingers through my short hair, still pressing my small nose against the window. It's freezing. The cold reminds me of an email I sent, one that would require me to run away. And then there was here. She is whole reason this thing got started. She is the reason I can't breath properly anymore, or see straight, or even understand my own feelings. Everyone must play a part, and NO there would be no restless nights, or silent tears if she simply did not exist. My world. Our world, would be filled with some untainted love and admiration from all ends. No on left out, no one hurt and yet her beauty consumes all of me. From her face which casts mine aside to her lips that tease my brain. Chemicals bursting through my veins, telling me to GO GO GO THIS IS THE ONLY WAY. How could I possibly describe her being and my pure love for it? It once had it's hold on me, locking me in. Causing me to do things I would NEVER do, causing me to abandon and hurt and lie . . . This love that was lost for just a short while is back again. I can't help but to feel the urge to run. And am I not right in doing so? If it was and is something I have never experienced before, something new, real, something that does more than completes me, It has me scattered about the universe in many forms laughing at those who can not touch what is sitting next me glaring in my eyes. Still the facts are the facts. And with that feeling coming back, that insane feeling, how can I say no? I can't. She could rid the world of me and still I would want to be hers. For fucks sake she could take these letters, and words bottle them up and throw them aside and STILL I would be at her side. Logic vs. Emotions Is that not always the case. Amazing things are happening, and I can't let them pass me by, yet I know somewhere in the process, I will be trampled on, AGAIN. What was that saying? Burn me once. . . Fuck. And those around me agree that what she holds is pure love, and that all is going to ok, but for who? You? Do you know me, and the past? Have you ever known such love and oh how it could hurt. But I'm braving up. I'm doing what I have to. I'm staring out this window and waiting . . . waiting . . . waiting to see her face.

Back to The Process of People - The Past

2010-11-29T19:15:00.000-08:00

The Past
The Lonely Life
Curtains closed I moved past the window and plopped down on my bed. I felt alone again. I called Cyns number but she didn’t pick up. Of course, it was too early in the day. For some people, technology gave them a sense of closeness, for me it was no different. At that moment I wanted anyone to call, even my dead mom. I turned on the tv and immediately felt at peace. It was the news again. For some reason I wanted to be with Steven. I had guessed he didn’t get to watch much TV but he seemed to be a News type of person. I glanced out the window again. The curtains where still closed. It was beginning to get dark outside and I opened my window to look down and see if Steven was in sight. Of course he wasn’t, but I could make out his little shack of a home. I raced down stairs and searched for him. After looking around a bit, I found him at the bus stop sleeping.
“Steven.” I said shaking him to wake him up. People around me were appalled and drew away from us.
“Steven!” I shouted and he jolted up.
“Rands?”
“Yeah, hey do you um . . .” Well it was kind of weird for me to be asking a homeless man to come to my apartment. Not only that a homeless man who had the sneaking suspension I was gay.
“Aw fuck it never mind.”
“No you woke my ass up, now what is going on?” I sighed.
“Do you want to watch the News with me?” There was a pause, even the words coming out of my mouth sounded gay.
“I’m not gay Steven, I just am bored.” Truth, I had to spit that out.
“What about your girlfriend?”
“Can’t call her until ten.”
“OK sounds fine just let me get some things.” What things did he have to bring with him? He dug around in his pocket until he pulled out a thing that just looked like a piece of harden mud.
“What’s that?”
“Hash.”
“Oh um.” I had not smoked weed since I was well 30.
“Sure.” I said not really wanting to, but then realizing I was bringing a homeless man to my apartment, so smoking Hash would only amplify whatever News we watched.
We walked to my apartment and I asked Steven to stand outside my door for a moment. I ran in and grabbed some canned odor removing air freshener.
“Sorry I have to do this.” I said as I sprayed him down.
“No man it’s cool. Can I take a shower?” Wow I never thought he would ask. Maybe one day I’d have a clean friend.
“um sure.”
“News first.” I nodded
“Hash second.” I nodded
“Shower third.” I nodded and my head began to ache.

Quick Note - GET MY FKING BOOKS

2010-11-23T08:29:00.000-08:00

In Our Own Eyes

The Power of Taking

Silver Rings Around Nothing

2010-11-18T00:30:00.000-08:00

What can I say dear bloggers . . . So many things have happened in the past week but never fear, I can handle ANYTHING! So, that being said I will now take some of what audacity I have received and properly convert it into fantasy version for appeal, because as we all know real life can be extreme but boring as hell at the same time. . .

Lucy In the Sky with Diamonds had it better than I did
I pull away from her again, this is not the first time. I’ve done it a million times. Why? Every action repulses me now, every “beautiful” feature, has become a wicked thing to use against me. I feel this way, but it wasn’t always like that, not until this past summer. If anyone in the world is out to sabotage me, its her. She takes the love out of my life, and makes it hers. She gives me objects to quiet me down. But I’d rather be gone. Now don’t get me wrong our core love still exists, deep in my throat, my stomach, and somewhere lingering in my head. Sex, well that I've given up on. That kind of sex that makes you crazy, where you can’t eat sleep or breathe. I had that. I had it many times. Questions float around my mind constantly: Am I getting old? Am I crazy? Are my interests unappealing? What exactly happened? Did I lose my Mojo and intuition for finding the right girl? This odd state of being left out makes me miss those I DID have a deep connection with. Only I realize that it didn’t work out with them for a reason and I (in some ways) stop myself from communication with them. I just may be going crazy after having lost a love A DEEP LOVE to someone I devoted my life to. Confusing? I know, let’s start the story . . .
Trisha steps out through the sliding glass door, she is a young woman, 20 to be exact. She looks around her for those that she may love, those that like her personality thus far. These girls, lesbians, met up with her as a friendship but it quickly became more as Trish was bi-curious. Trish begins to become nervous as neither of the girls are outside by the blazing fire on the patio. They were suppose to meet up to smoke. She casually puts her hands in her pockets but there was no casual feeling about it, she was a bit nervous about what they thought of her, and how she really felt about them. One of the girls slides through the glass door letting a small dog out. The minute their eyes caught, a smile appeared, wide and opening. These “other” two woman were heavily involved and shared everything as a married couple. The other was nowhere to be found but at that moment none of that mattered. Nothing in the world mattered but what lied in her eyes. They can’t help but to be nervous about so much intense feelings. This was more than marriage and more than just simple love. This was compatibility that no one could trample, this was an attraction that caused them become dizzy with the unreal nature of things. Some divine attraction that sweep them both deep below their possible fantasies. Trish walks towards her slightly shaking, not exactly knowing, but still ready. Then they both sit, close as can be expecting the other woman to come out and join them. Secretly Beth knew that Laura would never come out. Laura had not connected to anyone, not even her own partner and was hiding away in sex and lust making plans to ruin the future of her and Beth, not to completely destroy but to stir things up a bit. She (Laura) will be fucking a man in the near future, and is busy talking to this man on the phone. Back to the girls, they sit in darkness, with the fire blazing in front of them, they throw each burnt out cigarette in the fire and watch deeply as it burns to nothing. They can’t look at each other. It’s too much to bare. They will explode if they do. Beth slides her hand over, as does Trisha until their hands finally meet, sweaty with excitement. They both jerk around the seat, little movements to show their love and nervousness. Trisha has a thousand things on her brain; Is she gay? Does Beth feel the same? What about her ex boyfriend she was desperately trying to pursue? Is he dead to her now? She had never felt anything like this, and yes they began to kiss heavily by the firelight in the dark. Hiding, scared maybe that Laura wouldn’t approve, or anyone for that matter. They stop themselves and begin to babble about all the things they love, until become hours, and night was upon the face of deep. Laura was no tag-a-long, or one to interfere with such love. She simply extracted herself from the situation temporarily. Laura laid in the bed with her eyes shut tight wishing she could go away, but she was stuck, she couldn’t go out, she couldn’t leave this house. This horrible house. This was Beth’s parents. Laura wishes for something to happen, and then HE text her. Laura is not bisexual in the least bit, but she is very vengeful and sexual by nature. Trisha looked at her phone and asked about Laura. Beth just shrugged, and they both decided it would best if they went inside to see what was going on. When they entered the room Laura was turned with her back facing them, and the lights were off. Asleep, they guess, they figured she had to be. How wrong they were. Laura couldn’t fall asleep, as much drugs as she had injected into herself, she simply couldn’t make the confusion and rage leave her body. This progressed on, as they became to kiss and touch on the bed next to her. Lights off. Laura holding her shirt tight where her heart is, she is crying, silently. But this is not out of the norm, Laura cried a lot, but what she didn’t do was hold her chest. She believed in love, real love but not in the heart, in the brain. Both girls in the other bed begin nd being displayed. Laura had to do it. She slowly rolled over (enough for them not to notice) Then put the covers over her head and watched. IT was the sex that made her brain freeze and chest become tight. Yet she stayed listening to every sound, and evaluating every action. In her head this who scenario was not fair. She had something taken from her and then was once again alone. The hole tripe she was alone. Loneliness had never struck her before. And the look they gave each other, the way they fucked, compared nothing to what Beth and Laura had. She is trying to figure out a game plan, for all parties want her to join yet she still feels the strong desire to run. And she will as soon as she gets to her apartment. This was pure indulgence and pure sadden. She tries her best to just push it all back in her head. He edges away then finally sleeps, but not having memories of what went to sleep. She slept Hard, not remembering events from the previous night, although it was a recurring thing. Laura contemplates it a bit, and then when both girls were exhausted from the love making they had so obviously displayed and had fallen asleep, she had crept out the room grabbing only her I.D. and went out to the city of San Fran to catch a young girl who would fulfill her needs, who she could talk to, who she could fuck. Holding each other tightly and lovingly Laura looks back one last time at the two of them and how happy they were. She believes she doesn’t fit in. This whole poly thing doesn’t work. This whole relation isn’t working, not ideally, not the way she pictured it. But what can she do now? Tears roll down her face and her make up doesn’t smear because she is a cosmetologist. With confidence she leaves quickly, anything to get away from those she loves so deeply.
Your world fell apart because it had to

Preview of In Our Eyes, and The Power of taking

2010-11-17T08:52:00.000-08:00

Eh How'd Ya Like you Sickos?

BOOKS WILL BE OUT EARLY NEXT YEAR! - GET IT, YOU WON'T FUCKING REGRET IT!!!!

2010-11-09T04:52:00.001-08:00

I am sooo Fucking Happy, It feels like my god damn birthday! What happened? Well, I just got one of my Proofs in the mail, as to what my book will look like. Yep, "In Our Own Eyes" Is going to be Ah-MaY-sInG. Not that the power of taking isn't going to be a nice piece of golden shit too, but yeah I'm hoping I get some sort of weird Cult Following!!!! Actually I'm sure that will happen with this book. I'm not entirely sure of the Release Date, but I know it will be at the End of December/Beginning of January!!!!!! Fucking Soon man! So this is a picture of ME holding the book sideways (top) and the other is a picture of me holding the book right side up but, I had to hold my hand over the sexiest part of the Fucking Picture, Because my dumb ass put an ex (who I am on very bad terms with) on the cover of my book. THEN I realized she could sue the shit out of me. OK I know what you are thinking, NO I'm not that dumb, I thought about her suing me before, but but but I could also get her back by selling the Hottest Sex Tape EVER made! Ha Man oh Man, then I wouldn't have to worry about life, and living expenses ever again! Plus it is only part of her face, not the whole thing SO yeah, In my mind she couldn't be properly identified and the picture IS My Property, so I made some damn test books anyway. When the NEW COVER ones get here I'll be sure to post them. ANYWAY back to real life, Jenn and I are starting some test stuff out. I have a whole room dedicated to cutting hair and doing make up. I know CHEESE!, But I actually Like Doing It. So there! I finally know what I'm going to be doing for the next like couple of years. I have to pay off Debt (shitty) for a while. Then I'm going to go to Vidal Sassoon!!! After that Jenn and I plan on opening SOME SORT of business (be it a franchise, a Salon, or VEGAN ON THE GO!) Like I said I actually love love love doing hair, but Vegan on the Go would be Fucking Awesome!!! Think about it! A Vegan Drive Through!!! Yessss! OK Now, I am a little delirious from not sleeping, but it's packing up and moving shit time! We have to stay up All Night, so there is going to be a lot a coffee' uh brewing. Jenn can make the best damn coffee on the planet. I love her so much just for little things like that. She is amazing at whatever she does, even if she does it the wrong way. Aw yes, The Married Life is Good. Don't let people try to tell you it's not, because it so is. Thus far in my lifetime OUR WEDDING has been the Happiest day of MY LIFE!!!!! I LOVE YOU, JENN SHAGRIN, SO MUCH! OK, enough lovey dovey stuff. I guess I better start packing boxes, today is the big day (that I drive my car by myself from the Valley)[shitty] . . . morning is starting. I'm a Happy Camper and I hope that everyone who reads this has a good day As Well! Love, Jane

2010-11-07T12:14:00.001-08:00

The Future
Stacy, Stacy, Stacy
My great grandfather sat me down when I was just a boy and told me that in the Great Depression that everyone saved things, stupid things like bottle caps and used paper bags. In this world I lived in now it seemed the complete opposite. Everyone had thrown away things, valuable things, even their own lives. I close my eyes and remember the office talking.
“It’s no wonder Jeff in accounting killed himself, poor bastard owed like 40 grand.” The words seemed so old and echoed through my head as I walked a long side Stacy. Dead Stacy, Real Stacy, what was the difference anymore? She grabbed my limp hand and spoke first.
“Of course I didn’t die that night.” What have I become? Did everyone know what I was thinking? Was I that transparent? I looked back to see Cyn scolding me with her eyes. I looked away not wanting to hurt her feelings, she never knew about Stacy.
“Then please tell me what happened?”
“Where were you?” What did she mean?
“I was in my apartment. You know I couldn’t have saved you, Alex was crazy.”
“Is crazy.”
“He’s still alive?”
“Most likely.” The last time I saw both her and Alex was the night of her giving birth. She began but never finished. The curtains had closed on me as Alex drifted to the window and gave me a harsh stare. It was none of my business then and I suppose it was none of my business now.
“So what happened?” I pleaded again
“Alex, well he was kind to me the night of my giving birth. He told me we were to join a group, but that I must not be pregnant. I didn’t understand because I was giving birth, my mind was all jumbled up. I was in so much pain.” She put her hands on her stomach and I remained silent.
“He told me he loved me, then hit me as hard as he could in the stomach. I thought I would die. Pain was coursing through every vain in my body. Then he did it again, and again, until the baby came out dead. Still I cradled the boy, and named him before Alex took him from me and put him in the oven. I was scared, so scared he was going to kill me, and oh the blood.” She began to cry. I put my arm around her but she shrugged it off.
“It wasn’t until I had stopped bleeding that he got me nice and fed, dressed up pretty, and brought me out to dinner. It had been a month.” A month??? Where was I? Didn’t I see anything? I closed my eyes and tried to remember but my mind drew a blank.
“After dinner he explained to me that he got an offer to join this church group. I thought it would be good for us.” She couldn’t go on, and I knew the rest of the story anyway. You couldn’t have a child and be a Missionary. The Missionaries goals were simple. End The Human Race.
“Go on” I said with a frog in my throat.
“Well you know what happened after that. I just became determined to stay alive, as did Alex. We were split up, and I was glad for that, but now I was under the thumb of the Missionaries. My duty was to mix chemicals. That simple. Take a strong barbiturate and a pain killer like morphine and mix them. So in essence I never killed anyone, I just produced what would. In my mind I was doing something that would have people just lay down and fall asleep, not anything painful like Alex’s job.”
“And what was his job?”
“Frontlines.”
“I see.” She stopped and looked at me tightly holding a tan bag in her hands.
“In here, I’ve mixed enough to kill us all, if it comes down to it.” Somewhere in the distant like a cheetah I heard running. Cyn had obviously overheard the conversation and sprung into action. In a flash she had Stacy pinned down and again punching her in the face, this time blood. I couldn’t believe a girl of Cyn’s age had the ability to take down a 30 something year old woman. Julian came running up as did Steven. We three men watched the women battle until Julian picked up the bag and everyone stopped frozen.
“I could use some morphine.” Steven quickly grabbed the bag from him and empty it’s contents on the ground. Five small bottles of grey like liquid dropped out, along with some food. It was the food that had my attention, and apparently Cyn’s as well, because she released Stacy.
“No drugs for you.” Steven said in a stern tone.
“I was only kidding.” Julian picked up the small round bottle and let his flail drop out.
“Check this out Stacy. This is how we are going to die.” What the fuck did he mean? He threw the bottle up in air and hit it with his spiked ball almost showing off as it shattered to pieces.
“Enough.” I said finally standing ground.
“Empty the fucking things and let’s eat.” Julian stopped and smiled at me. He grabbed some food and he and Cyn sat eating in the dirt together as Steven, Stacy and I emptied the contents of the bottles.
“I thought . . .” But Steven cut her off.
“You thought wrong. We are all together for a reason.” Stacy’s wide eyes blinked and I fell in love with her all over again.
“You have to get that God shit end-of-the-world crap out of your head if you don’t want Julian smashing your brains in.”
“She’s fine.” Julian yelled with cookies in his mouth from a distance. It seemed the little shit knew everything.

Cyn Aptic The Past

2010-11-04T23:20:00.000-07:00

For some reason or another my body felt light as I exited the bus. Not the fun kind of high light, but the (I’m going to pass out) light. I walk haste fully towards Steven and slam down on the bench before I actually did pass out. Maybe my body knew what I was about to say.
“You o.k. Rands?”
“I’m fine.” I whispered, catching my breath.
“Steven, I have something to tell you, but you must not judge me on it.” He smiled wildly. I couldn’t believe how healthy his teeth look. Even I had to get four teeth pulled by the time I was 25, and I brushed twice a day.
“Come on now Randle, look at me.” He was right I could tell him anything, but why I hadn’t told him about Cyn for the past six months was over my head. I didn’t understand it myself, it was so casual yet so weird.
“I’m seeing someone.” His big eyes cheered up and he laughed a bit.
“Good for you!”
“No, it’s not in the way you think, it’s purely platonic.”
“So, tell me who is lucky lady.” He scooted back a bit, by the expression on my face, he must have guessed something was up.
“or man?” He said in a very casual voice, one that would assure me if I were gay he would accept. The question was, Why did everyone think I was gay?
“No!” I shouted kind of out of spite. I calmed myself.
“I mean I’m not gay.”
“They always say the defensive ones are the gay ones.” He looked down “I’m not judging you Rands.”
“No no no, It’s a girl. A young girl. Well.” How could I put it? I figured I would just spit it out.
“She’s a dominatrix.”
“That’s not a relationship.”
“Yes it is!”
“Does she call you?” Never, she was outcall only. But for some reason I believed she cared. Maybe it was the long talks we had or her recent confession about her age. 17
“No.” I just crawled back into myself, wanting some human interaction, wanting to call Cyn right there and then.
“Well then, not a relationship.”
“We talk.”
“About what?”
“Life, Satanism. You know she is a Satanist like me?”
“You’re no Satanist. You are a glorified Atheist. Does she believe in the devil and shit?”
“No, she is modern like me.”
“So you’re saying you two have one connection and that is that you think you are hot shit. Well let me tell you something I don’t believe in God either but you don’t see me putting a label on it.”
“Satanism is about being one with yourself. It’s called Satanism because Satan did what he wanted and was happy with his life, where as the followers just felt things like fear and guilt.”
“I know you’ve told me before. Fuck if I ain’t a Satanist myself, just scares people ya know? So tell me about this Dominatrix. What does she do to you? Smash your balls in?”
I shook my head no. He wanted to know about our “sessions” I didn’t like the idea of telling him my fetishes, but I had no choice at this point.
“I like to walked on. It’s called trampling. I lay on the ground and with her boots she stomps all over me for an hour every week.”
“You have to pay for that shit?”
“200 an hour.” I said letting out a heavy sigh. But it was more than that. Cyn and I would have dinner. I would take her out to the movies. I would buy her clothes and stuff. It was like a real relationship minus the sex and she, in some capacity, had to like me too, as every time I would see her, she would give me a giant hug that seemed to last forever, then kiss me on the cheek. Steven saw me drifting off into a world with just Cyn and I and he spoke again.
“I understand.” I snapped out of it and looked over. He was holding another news paper clipping.
“What’s that?”
“Vaccinations.” I didn’t understand.
“In six months they will legalize a new Vaccination for the flu. Something an organization named” and he looked down.
“The Missionaries came up with. Speaking of church, we are now being treated by church fucks.” We both laughed a bit.
“Well I’m not getting holy water shot up in my ass.” I laughed.
“Me either.” For a moment my mind drifted to Stacy.
“I’ve got to get home.”
“Calling your lover?”
“No, and her name is Cyn.”
“Nice.” He said as I drifted away from him, and crossed the street to my apartment. When inside, I franticly opened the window, but it was still stained a bit with black marker. I began to scrub it off with such force I thought the window would break. It was almost night before it all came off and I could see a bit of what was going on across the street. I was right. Stacy laid on the bed as Alex stood at the door, blocking her from leaving. She had her knees up and her hair was wet and smashed against her face. She was having her child.

The Process of People

2010-11-02T12:26:00.000-07:00

The Future
Hello Babies
I didn’t think. I didn’t let my insecurities take hold of me any longer. What I did was walk about five steps up to the camp fire, which had died down to about a foot high, and I began to shoot. Four shots and we had taken them by surprise. I completely missed the woman, shot two in the head, and one in shoulder. He was now lying on the ground groaning with pain. My eyes blinked and I was frozen again. The man with shiny red hair reached for his pocket, this is when Julian sprung into action, his little body flying past the fire and straight towards the man. The man’s face became as stale as mine. Then without hesitation his face was smashed in by Julian’s flail. Next to Julian was the woman who was crying and didn’t move. I looked closer at her my mind spinning. Julian raised his flail in hand and I ran up behind him.
“DON’T” I screamed. Julian obliged me with grace and let the ball drop and recede back into his arm. I grabbed her by the arms and shook her as hard as I could letting her black hair fly back and forth. It was then that we locked eyes and I heard Julian scramble away. Her blue eyes pleaded with me as I held the gun in my hand still warm and wet with sweat from all my anxiety. How could it be? Was I seeing things? My mouth opened a bit as to say something, anything to break the anxious silence we both held, but she spoke first.
“It’s me.” Confirmation. That’s what I searching for. But why had she gone to this, and how . . . I thought.
“Stacy?”
“Yes.” The silence filled the air again, I looked down at her not knowing what to think. My eyes locked on her stomach then slowly I raised my eyes to hers.
“He’s dead.” Of course the baby was dead.
“He?” I began to cry, silent tears, she joined me shortly after.
“Yes, he, Randle Walker.” I looked away not wanting her to see my face. I felt a man crying in front of a woman was a sign of weakness. Maybe I was old fashion.
“Rands!” I heard from behind me, it was Steven. I let go of Stacy and turned.
“You know this bitch.” Julian spoke for me.
“She’s not a missionary.” How did he know? How did I know? She was doing and wearing the right things to be one. Fuck for all I knew she could have already called in back up. Wasn’t Julian about to kill her?
“I was just out to scare, not kill.” Julian’s voice was close but I wasn’t looking at him, I was gazing into Stacy’s eyes as she remained silent.
“Well I’ll kill her if I have to.” Steven said in a sort of casual way.
“No, don’t” Julian and I both said in sync. There was a long pause of silence that filled the air all of standing around not knowing what to say or do. Of course Cyn broke that silence as she had been behind the SUV the entire time. She jolted out like a fox and ran full speed at Stacy and I, a flash of her little half naked body and Stacy was down, getting punched in face by Cyn over and over. I pulled Cyns body off her with one arm, and dragged her away kicking and screaming. Steven started to laugh, and everyone looked at him in queer way.
“Hey Rands, Remember the Beany’s?” Beanys? Yes, I did. Some of the first murders. A family or something.
“Well, you can recreate the world with mutants right?” A heavy sigh let itself out of my body, releasing all the tension that had built up. I looked back to Stacy now on the ground trying to gain back her footing. I needed answers and I needed them now.

Back to The Process Of People

2010-11-02T00:32:00.000-07:00

The Past
All in a day’s work
Everything is a lie until it repeats itself too many times to become true. That’s how it is with my mother. That’s how it was with Steven, and even the woman across the street. They were all blank papers, lies of human beings. They didn’t exist until they kept existing I walk into work to see Mike messing with the display phones. He doesn’t know anything about them. I read the entire stupid manual so I know exactly what every phone is and what the functions are. He actually flicks a phone to see if it will turn on, and I cough awkwardly to get his attention. It didn’t work. The sales department was a whole other world compared to the office. In the office I had my space, my time. I could hide away and pretend none of this was real. On the sales floor you have no private space. You share all space with giant lights, phones, coworkers who won’t shut up, and customers that are constantly walking in. This would be my new life. I step a bit towards Mike and call out his name.
After not getting the slightest bit of acknowledgment from my boss I stroll to the tech office and sit down a little hard, hurting my ass. I look at my feet as they lie on the floor. I know they stink, that’s just the way it is when you don’t drive. Not many people walk anymore, and that fact makes me sad for my feet. My eyes drift upwards to my belt and the small bit of belly is hanging over it. It’s true I’m getting old, these things happen and there is nothing I could do about it. I’m not frightened, or disgusted, I’m merely intrigued by my own lack of interest in my future. I lived and breathed for Steven and for my mother and for Stacy. Not because they had something I didn’t, and not because I wanted to be them. I mean my mother is dead and I’m by far no pessimist. I simply keep finding myself trying to understand their nature of caring. Why was Steven (a fucking homeless man) preparing for the end of the world? Why was Stacy having a baby? Why was my mother always calling, and who is she, really? Why did these people care so much, when caring is something of past tense, easily forgotten and something that only people in their twenties do. My theory so far was that these people only cared to figure out themselves, once done they will begin the process of dying, as I. Sometimes I would tell myself that these people in my life are simple movies or books, stories with the same ending. I am just the viewer, which would make me the God of many. How high and mighty it sounds and I pleasantly smile at feet. My body, my dying body, which was the real thing. That was something I could hold, hurt, and fuck. Anyone else was a delusional daydream of a conquest in which did not involve me. So I removed myself, it seemed the only natural approach. My head begins to drift too far. I’m thinking too much, and it’s putting me to sleep. A loud noise comes from the door that leads to the tech room. At first I thought it was Stacy. Stacy being beat by her loving husband. I wasn’t at work, I was in their apartment, watching, waiting. Then I looked up to see Mike standing with his hands together. I straighten up a bit.
“You see Randle, this is why I moved you.”
“Did you make some noise? Throw something?”
“I clapped to wake your sorry ass up.”
“But I wasn’t sleeping.”
“Might as well have been.” He shakes his head. He was always shaking his head in the “no” like fashion. I didn’t want to dig deep into his personality to figure out why, he was only a small flea stuck on my dick in life.
“Sorry” I said in the way that meant I wasn’t at all. He didn’t catch it, and I didn’t care.
“I want to have a meeting with the team, but I need you to hold down the fort, are you capable of that?” I nodded, but wanting to shake my head no, just to see what it felt like.
“Good.” At first I couldn’t tell if it were a dream. He wasn’t being a prick like most other days. Sure his eyes and gestures were the same as always but his tone had changed. Maybe he had a fight with his wife, if he had one. I never questioned his personal life, and to be honest his existence was unimportant to me. I stand up and stretch to give myself a little boost. Walking to the Service Center counter I pull my shirt down a bit. A customer flies through the door with panic in her eyes. Some hot blond I would probably jerk off to later. Her life was at stake, her phone was about to collapse and she would lose everything. I could tell her type. Phone = life. I smile as she explains her situation and she hands over her precious life and sits nervously, almost shaking as I bring it to the back to be worked on. Of course I fixed the problem. A little sand here and there, she must have been to the beach. But I wouldn’t be the one to tell her that in a few months her precious phone would die due to corrosion. Death by corrosion. That would be her in April. Slow day, boring day. A bunch of corporate sluts with the phone of their being. I intentionally rip the insides out of one man’s phone, his name is Mike. Why are all douche bags named Mike? I had no clue, but in my experience that the way things worked. I pull out a piece here and there, walk to the front to tell him he has lost everything. This chubby man, this old corp fellow he slams his fists. I say “there is wetness inside.” He mutters something like “fucking slut” Sure let a hooker come all over your phone. During lunch time I see my lunch has mysteriously disappeared, underneath where it was place is a big FU written in black letters. Same person, different day. I close my eyes and decide to leave early again. I don’t need the money and I could maybe spend some time with Steve, or Stacy. Getting out of work would easy, finding Mike would not. I tell the sales floor that I am leaving. They look at me as if I had given them some sort of gift for Christmas, their eyes lit and smiles on. No one is saying a word. “Just tell Mike I’m sick please.” No one nods, or says yes. They simply go about their job merrily. I don’t grab anything. I don’t carry books, I trashed the manual after reading. My life was looking dull up until the point where I come out of the bus seeing Steven smiling and tying his new acquired grocery store bag shoes. Good. At least he is being productive.

One More Note on Bipolar Disorder

2010-10-31T12:08:00.000-07:00

What makes a person Bipolar? Doctors? The Actual People? The Mind? Who knows? Not me that’s for damn sure, but I can say with conviction that I AM BIPOLAR 1. What is Bipolar 1? Well, it’s a delusional thought process that leaves you empty and apathetic. You don’t really know what happens around you and you can’t seem to grasp reality and what is right and wrong. People become objects. You become an object. Disposable, Trash. Yes, does this not sound like a Depressive State? It’s not. The thing is, when people who commit suicide (being Bipolar 1) tend to do it out of the false realization that they simply do not need to, or should not exist. Not like many Depression Suicides, where you are sad about your life and you kill yourself because of that. No, Bipolar people seem to analyze things incorrectly, if analyzing your life is something you should do at all, then they begin to build a pro and con list. If the con’s outweigh the pro’s you (bipolar bear) are done for. I have reached this point many MANY times in my life. When I write down the Pros and Cons and then decide it would be better for society if I simply did not exist. Last night was one of those times. I became furious with the one I love for not understanding. This was no cry for help, this was FACT to me. And she could not understand this. Lucky for me, I am medicated, so that even though I had come to that conclusion and was ready to jump ship, I smoked a bowl instead and fell asleep. Many people who are Bipolar 1 self-medicate. This can be a good and bad thing. Sometimes it keeps them from committing suicide, or homicide, and sometimes it creates addiction. However the story goes. People still look down on Mental Illness, which is one of the most horrible things that I believe that are in this world of ours. Mental Illness is NO joke. People die, innocent people, good people, people that are very valuable to the world. It’s sad that most of us still have the mentality of “Everyone is Depressed/Bipolar, so I can’t be” I have one word for you . . . BULLSHIT. Over the years, I have learned many tricks to deal with my mental condition. One I realize that my “Facts” need to be straighten out. Whenever I feel these things as Facts, an example being that my wife is cheating on me simply because she didn’t tell me when she went to the store, I take my medication. Sometimes it happens too fast and medication cannot come into play. At these times I’ve learned to leave the situation. Walking always helps, just a little. It gives you enough time to calm down and take the appropriate Medications. Medications are IMPORTANT to people who suffer from, or have symptoms of Bipolar Disorder. They are the most important part, I have to admit. It sucks but I like to think of it like this and I believe you should too. . . there is mind over matter, then there are brain tumors, treat what is bothering you and don’t ignore it because it will eat you alive. If people could just understand and more importantly believe Bipolar Disorder is a serious illness, then there would be far less suicides, homicides, and homeless people.
Things you should know about Bipolar 1 or Bipolar Disorder
• People who are Bipolar tend to attract others who are Bipolar (Medicated or not)
• Bipolar Disorder is Normally Genetic and passed down the reproductive chain. If your parents have Bipolar symptoms (see below) Then chances are you are likely to have the disease as well.
• Addicts are most often Bipolar, or have a mental illness and vice versa.
• Bipolar Disorder is a Very Dangerous Disease and can cause great harm, therefore needs to be Addressed and Treated ASAP
• Bipolar People tend to say and do things that are off base of their character, or how they really feel. If you are friends with someone who is Bipolar you know what I mean. One day they could say I love you and mean it, and the next say I hate you and not mean it in heart, but mean it only right then and there. This is that which causes friendship loss, girl/boyfriend loss, and much worse.
• If you know someone who is Bipolar give them a second chance, to speak truth. Like stated above Bipolar people tend to say things that are NOT TRUE to their own personal opinion. If you feel as though you are being shit on by someone you BELIEVE may be Bipolar, then wait a day and see what that person has to say. Give Them A Chance, they are people just like you.
• BIPOLAR PEOPLE CAN NOT ALWAYS CONTROL THEIR EMOTIONS! Medicated or Not.
• Bipolar People tend to not want to admit they have a mental illness, because when they are Manic, they get things done and can think clearly (don’t we all wish we were manic everyday) when they are on the opposite side of the spectrum they don’t believe they have a problem because of the Manic side of things.
• IF YOU KNOW SOMEONE WHO MAY BE BIPOLAR, GET THEM HELP OR TRY TO, IMMEDIATELY!!!! I CAN NOT COUNT THE NUMBER OF PEOPLE WHO HAVE DIED BECAUSE OF THIS, AND ONE PERSONALLY I DO KNOW. R.I.P. Peter, you taught me so much about the disease, and I wish you could have been properly medicated.
• MOST PEOPLE WITH BIPOLAR DISORDER ARE SEEN AS SELFISH WHEN THAT IS JUST NOT THE CASE.
• It takes A lot of time to be properly diagnosed and treated, so if you are, or know someone who may be Bipolar, please go to more than one psychiatrist.

Symptoms of Bipolar Disorder –
• Violent behavior, threats, or out-of-nowhere enragement.
• Saying or thinking one thing one day, then saying or thinking the complete opposite the next
• Strong Sense of Apathy about life, people, everything
• The feeling of inability to control emotions
• Impulsiveness, the feeling of needing to do something right then and there, or your world will fall apart
• Unreasonable crying and depressive thoughts
• Suicidal or homicidal threats or feelings
• The urge to throw Valuable things away
• The feeling of immediate departure from someone or something. Example leaving a job or moving.
• Feeling selfish and because of that losing Self Worth
• Dwelling on Past actions or on Past events. Making them a present issue, instead of leaving them behind.
• Hypochondriac feelings/out bursts
• Physical unknown pain is generally associated with Bipolar Disorder
• Feeling Over Accomplished, having a great sense of pride in a short time span.
• Delusional thinking (this one is dangerous and hard to catch)
• Hallucinations
• Jumping from one Idea to the next in a very fast pace manner
• Confusion about what should be accomplished
• Overactive Imagination or thought process
• Jumping from Project to Project
• Impulsive decision making
IF YOU OR ANYONE YOU KNOW SUFFER FROM THESE SYMPTOMS PLEASE SEEK HELP IMMEDIATELY!!!!

Jude

2010-10-27T09:48:00.001-07:00

There was many times in her life that she would simply mistake as an act of coincidence. She laid on her side smoothing her round belly until she felt it was safe enough to let it go and to relax. When she glanced up at the mirror plated ceiling she couldn't help but think of what a sleeze ball she had become. All this time preparing for what was inside her, and all she wanted was to see herself fucking a girl while she laid on her back. More now, does she regret all the acts of sex she played out in that room, everyone of them ending with "Well that was the best" Yeah, sure, they were all the best for her, that's just part of the game she played. Not anymore, not now that she was pregnant and stuck in heterosexual world. Yes, that's right stuck. Jude was only 23, still young and a bit naive. In her tower of "The Home" Her room was by far the finest. Her parents had wanted nothing to do with there own lives and gave everything to her, everything with a tag that she would sleep with me. They put her out on dates with these men, and she would intoxicate herself with wine and whiskey, until she no longer cared that she was on a date. Now skip back, is it really her fault? ONE of the hundreds of dates she has been on and all she wanted was some sex because a Woman had just broken her heart. "Of Course Not" She says out loud to clarify any and every thing. This baby well this baby wasn't her choice either. Her parents would cut her out of their lives for good if she didn't have this baby with . . . and oh she can't even remember his name. Jude begins to lightly tap her stomach, then hard, then harder. She is 7 months in, and this just doesn't feel natural to her. She begins to weep as she thinks of her last love, and how this ended it. THIS being only an extension of herself. Jude tumbles off the bed and then slowly opens the door feeling something is going on down stairs in her living room of her wing. There is. The two of her parents were there going through and through what happened to their "Baby Girl." She trembles a bit, not knowing why. Then as she hears the conversation go on, she begins to almost spring down and shout with joy. They would let her abort, or more importantly they would MAKE her do a Partial Birth Abortion. Jude's first thought was that they had accepted her being Gay, but too soon she realized, they just wanted her to be their little girl again, and they would kill to do it. She had no choice this time as her parents had locked her in her tower, She supposed that they wanted her to hear this. That she would like this. No, not now, not ever. Sure she had kept it a secret for 6 months, but her parents were beyond strict and dove deep into her personal life. For that she decided she would just not tell anyone. Bad Mistake. Windows padded down and locked, with all means of escaping impossible. She thought of her lover, Victory, the one she lost because of this whole mess and she rubs her belly - clockwise, rolls her eyes, digs through her closet, until . . . Yes . . . Ok . . . She would name the Baby Victory all the same, in her little head, with or without the real Victory. Victory was the father. She would not be like the ones before her and carelessly take her own life out of despair, and misery. No
1. She walks down the the zig zag of the glass steps
2. Her Parents are in plain view with their backs turned
3. She has something to say to them, this time maybe
4. She nods "no" and quite plainly walks up to the white leather sofa and shoots both of her parents in the back of the head.
and
maybe
she
ended
her
life
too
But
Not
Victory's

My Overplayed Emotions Sunk Deep Into The Ground

2010-10-27T09:15:00.000-07:00

ABOUT LOVE - My torn eyes meet the sunshine’s rays, and only then do I feel a bit broken and yet a bit fixed. With some delusional thought that people in the world do care. I will admit I have wiped tears from my eyes because this stagnate state, because I’ve lost all interest in love and in that I mean loving the things I do, and giving love to those I trust. How easily is a bond broken because of these delusional thoughts, and not only mine but those of others, and when we cross paths it’s nothing but shear delightful chaos. THAT is what I miss. Mild as a friendship, harder than a marriage. All in between and without a doubt in my being is lost. And now all I stand to do is gain something different, maybe something more successfully empowering. Something a bit too normal. But I can’t take the shattered glass from my hands and say I didn’t have a part in it all. I did, as innocent as my intentions were, I had a part in every lost connection, every tear that fell because he or she left. What disease am plagued with that has people crawling away? What candy I hold to draw them in? And I could say to myself that this is one big fucking game, but I know that’s not true. I can say to myself I am completely happy with this, but darkened eyes know the truth.
With Victory , I knew she didn’t love me anymore. I could see it in her eyes and she could see it in mine. We just made a good pair. Something chemical that brought us together, held us together like glue, but that all faded when I set her up. I set her up to see if she would do it despite the past, and she did and so that’s how it all went down. I set her up so that I could break up with her. I miss her now. I feel like things could have been different, but only if she was a totally different person. People with Bipolar 1 will always be alone.
With HER – I did nothing but try to be a lover of sorts, one that required no attention and needed no special care, and that I suppose was too much. Even after I took my rejection with dignity there was still something wrong, something I was doing wrong. And I spoke it out loud to myself to see if I had made an error and there was none to be found. Our friendship slowly dissolving, and I ask myself now, why? Why do I just want to be her friend so badly? Is it him and her, is it the poly thing? Why? If she is unhappy with me in her life then I should let that go and move on, but I see a picture and I can’t help but to smile as those same fucking tears roll down my face.
With HIM – Low times or high times we were always there for each other. I knew somewhere inside of him he had a crush on me, but I was as blunt as a lesbian could be. This one I must blame solely on him, because his delusional thinking trapped him into a midnight flight across the country, never to here or speak to me again.

Three people, all bundled up together like some cluster fuck of “I’ll never be by your side again.” Not to mention those who are just too busy to speak. I need an outlet to plug this retarded waves in.
Alright enough sad soppy shit, It’s Halloween! The only holiday I celebrate!!
At least I can say this. I did my best to love those who deserved my love, and what did I get in return for that? A cut off. Completely and totally, and I’ll never see these people again. They won’t. I’ve done something terribly wrong and I will never touch or be around these people again. There are a couple of friends who will be in touch when as only associates, I could never stay for a week when shit hits the fan.
The moments of my life are slowing fading into a circle a don’t want to look at, I hate. This circle of I like you, I love you, I’m in love with you, and then finally a loss connection. A new one is found and I start the circle all over again. This time, I’ll be ready (I tell myself) when I HAVE to leave, Then I’ll leave, I won’t linger around for some trash talk bullshit. I won’t tell you I’ll be there, then am there for you to bite. Nope. Fuck that. What hear and what I am hearing as a constant last statement is “we can’t be friends, you know how I feel for you.” Then maybe we should have just stayed in step one.
What is this love that slowly brings up hate? I can feel it in my stomach now, as I look upon my empty warn down phone. It use to go off, I’m sure of it! But if it did go off with anyone I mentioned before, then my phone would take a trip sky high, only to come shattering down to earth breaking against the hardwood of the floor. Great now I have to get a new phone. As I see and review this recent lost in love and lost in the past, I can’t help but to wonder if my part was only a small one. If I WAS the reality check for these people. These crazy people. This crazy me. I don’t know what I’d do without them, I thought, then I realized I would do the same damn thing as always. Still back to the basics with my crushed phone and my knotting stomach. A tangled rubber band ball clogs my throat. Did I see that I didn’t love them the way they wanted me to? Yes, probably so. If I can pin point the anger, surly I can pinpoint the love. What makes us vast in infatuation so much that we can’t see past our own wants? Those are the people in my life, not me.

A Day In Life of TriPolar City

2010-10-23T00:33:00.000-07:00

I don't know why but I feel compelled today to beat the shit out of my ex girlfriend. She didn't do anything wrong. But I guess that's just what happens when you break up. Well Jenn and I have been getting along really well except for this whole girlfriend thing. We haven't been fighting, we are raising the two dogs, and get ourselves ready for Vidal Sassoon. Yep, then we will open a shop. But I really wanted to say was this . . .

Everyday is like a blur. A string of events that you can't remember and you can not see or hold. It is just shit boiling itself up in your life. Even work, it's always the same things over and over again. MY life is different. My life is warped inside and out with this huge Mental Disease called Bipolar 1 or (I'm an asshole, and hate everyone) It's unfortunate that many people don't even know the disease. I walk around and do normal stuff yes, but I also PUSH those I LOVE the MOST AWAY. By this I mean I say things I don't mean, and I am rude, and I am manipulative. All of these things are subconsciously arising (I've been to therapy, and many Psychologists) what I see now is a Psychiatrist, and that's good enough for me. In my medicated world everything is fun and productive, But when my Hormones Change and the Meds don't work, I am back to TriPolar City. This is where I have been on the past two days (taking medication that reacted to Abiliy)****
I scoot around and try to get comfortable, nothing. I stare at the window so I could see someone see me crying. I knew she didn't love me, but I was over that part, the sad part was a pure betrayal. My eyes shining tears, why was I alone. I didn't want to be alone, yet I am the one who said "Let Me Be Alone." a few hours ago, and made plans to sleep alone. My heart was bursting with sadness, the sadness quickly jumped to anger. That's my whole life. I can do a Million things at Once and Make SO Many People Happy, I can get angry for no reason what-so-ever, or I become Engulfed and can't concentrate on anything else and people are portrayed as things, possessions, throw away pair of dollar store shit. It saddens me to think of the rest of my life like that, but it's true, only now I am back to being properly medicated and not taking Hormone Pills, SO I go back and forth from the door to the window. My options at this time are simple and direct (I MUST get OUT of HERE)and(fuck them both so I'm not hurting so badly) I wipe my tears and look at my watch. I hear giggling and it's been two hours since we all went to sleep.
THEN From no where all of my sadness, the pain in my stomach, my snotty nose, my lumpy throat, and my constant tears STOP COMPLETELY. I am thinking of other things. I am thinking of work, and school, and all the things I MUST DO. I decide to write them both a letter explaining I need to be on my own because I'm having one of my episodes, and I get attacked and defeated. The Notes, that's where things stopped being nice. I WAS NOT NICE. I had turned to pure and full hatred when she stepped out of the room. I was a maniac on the inside. I wanted to throw her against a wall, and punch her, or have MAD CRAZY SEX ALONE RIGHT THEN AND THERE. But it couldn't happen that way. Well she let the crying go on about the letter I wrote, but really what was happening in my head was that she was just being an uncaring bitch. I know otherwise today, and I knew the morning after. I sighed to myself and deleted her number. I couldn't see her face anymore, I loved her that much.

CHECK OUT MY WEBSITE!

2010-10-22T21:32:00.000-07:00

WWW.THEWRITINGIMPULSE.COM

It's been a wonderful day, though I've been busy and not posting as much as I should, I need to stay focused. But more to come . . . I Swear IT!

The Process of People

2010-10-21T18:56:00.000-07:00

The Future
Murder
It’s time? Time for what? I wanted to throw it up those words streaming through my head to my stomach that had turned rock solid. Julian moved closer, every rustling noise he made gave me confirmation that we would soon die. He sat next to me, almost in view of who ever would be near us. I grabbed him and pulled his small body in front of mine as to block him from view.
“No Randle.” And he handed me something. I grasped it hard, and it was heavy. I couldn’t look down but I knew it was a gun. Had he had this all along? Why had he not given it earlier to me when we could have used it. I mean I was supposedly the guide.
“No what? Stop talking and stay still.” I demanded, letting the gun rest in my hand on the ground.
“You know what we have to do if we are going to survive, and you know how to use that gun.” He was right about one thing, I did know how to use the gun. It was a small 22 caliber pistol. I had taken lessons whenever I first moved to the city and had to live in a shitty part of town, but what I wasn’t sure of was what exactly we were doing. Could we possibly fight these Missionaries? If we did wouldn’t they call back up or something? The only way to survive was to hide, I was sure of it and tears began to streak my face. Julian pulled away and the foot steps seemed to be getting closer. Missionaries had passed us many times before, but never once had we been out in the open, even under a vehical we would contort our bodies to fit the tires. Rage started to fill me, I wouldn’t die because of this little shit for a savior. Julian apparently noticed this and smile crossed his face, then left very quickly as we began to hear voices aside us. He whispered even lower now.
“Aim for the face, there are only four of them.” Fuck I didn’t want to do this, yet I wasn’t trembling anymore. My body had seemed to go through many phases of feelings. Frightened, shocked, panic, and now rage. My muscles tighten, and Julian slid out of the back of the SUV as I followed. We were now quietly standing behind it, listening to the voices on the other side.
“We can probably build a camp fire here.” Old man voice, good for me, not too much work, though I didn’t want to kill anyone. That was at first.
“Haha yeah, and burn those two bitches we got yesterday. Man I fucked the blonde and let me tell you she’s got one tight pussy for a dead bitch.” They both laughed. These were the people of God? These were the Missionaries? For a second I couldn’t believe it. Missionaries had always talked of Jesus and his coming to the world through people. I wanted to sneak around the SUV and shoot them right then and there. I began my slow steps but Julian silently grabbed my arm and mouthed the words “Four of them” I stopped and listened on to the conversation. It sounded as if they had sat down, and the Convoy, the missionaries drove had come very close to us. They must have gestured the rest of the crew to come over. I knew Cyn would be up and Randle as well, but there was no movement or noise coming from under the SUV. Julian and I stayed hidden as more voice appeared.
“What are you guys up to?” A female, seemingly young. This was why Julian wanted us to kill them. The puzzle was slowly coming together and was complete in my head when I heard them say they had killed a mother and her son. Lightly they put it, like some sort of sick joke.
“Sent to heaven, we shall burn the bodies and see them rise to the almighty God.” I looked to Julian for instructions. What should I do? Is it time? My muscles were still tight and my face in a state of emense rage. He shook his head and mouthed “Fire” From that I gathered we would have to wait for the bodies to burn, but how long? And what if Julian was just a little lying shit. What if he didn’t have all the answers. I mean he did almost die once. We waited what seemed like hours as the bodies obviously burned, and we could hear the small whispers of prayer coming from the lips of the Missionaries. Sweat started to come between the gun and my hand as the sun rose high. Soon they would notice us. I began to give up in my head, not knowing how we would pull this off. It was then that Julians small voice echoed in my head and my body stiffened as I took a step forward.
“Go.” He said as he gracefully yet quietly stepped in tune with me out from around the SUV.

A new beginning?

2010-05-23T17:29:00.000-07:00

The future
The city is dead, but if you look up into the sky you couldn’t tell. The air is full of pollution, but it always has been, yet the sky is glaring down on me with a cold beautiful purple filled with stars. The coldness of the sky pierces my ageing white skin. I squirm a little and try to warm myself up. For some reason or another Steven wanted to go our old meeting place at the bus stop. It’s dangerous here. It’s dangerous everywhere, but especially in the open streets of the deserted city. I left my somewhat sheltered area with Cyn sleeping peacefully, at the three in the morning for this. There use to be a grocery store behind the broken down bus stop. The windows of the store are all busted in. Spray paint lines the walls. Things written there are ridiculous. It’s 2011, late 2011, and everyone has gone crazy. The grocery store makes me sigh, I grab hold of Stevens hand. I want some food, and he does too, but he is use to it, because he use to be homeless. I say use to because we all are now. The homes have been raided, burnt down, or torn to shreds. Homeless is Home. People are gone. They are dead. Then I look back at the grocery store behind us and it says “Fuck you President Liar” in big red letters. My clothes barely hang on to me now. The trash bag is what is holding me together. I use to be fat, you know, I was a 37 year old man with a dead end job and a beer belly. Steven was my best friend and still is. Cyn was the only one who kept my hopes and dreams alive. I lived through many people, but mainly her, and now I have abandoned my most precious gift to congregate with Steven. He sits in silence and I wait for him to say something. The streets are empty. Electricity gone, cars smashed or parked but with no doors. I look down and see a human hand, most likely shot off by the appearance of the edges of the wrists. It almost blends in with the debris of things that lay in street, and everything has turned to a dark brown color that has taken over the city. Old blood. Death. After a moment I can’t stand it anymore and I grab a cigarette from my pocket, even that has a spot of blood. We are not killers, though we have had close encounters. The world fell apart and murder was the only way people could free each other. Those people are long gone. The only ones left are the dumb fucks like us, hoping for a place people free, and The Missionaries. The Missionaries go about killing what is left of the city as to save them. They did most of the job, but Steven was a good hider. He took Cyn and I in. For that I was forever greatful and would rise to every word. He was good at surviving in general and I was becoming the same. The Missionaries consisted of about 20 people, who will all kill themselves when the clock hits 2012. How this all started? Well that I will get into later, right now The Missionaries could come at any point so I need Steven to start talking. I light my cigarette and he looks over, his beard grey and black, his hazel eyes smiling away. He looks much older than he claims, but according to him we are the same age. Doubtful. The bench I use to adore is slimed with filth and essence of murder. I put my head to the side and painfully close my eyes.
A dark shadow grazes the edges of my eye lids. I know this isn’t happening, but I indulge in all of its glory. I’m back to the way things use to be. I stand up and wash my face ever so carefully, making sure my hair doesn’t look too greasy because to be completely honest I just don’t feel like a shower today. I run my fingers through the soft balding edges and it seems that I should have had a full head of hair, what with the quality of what I owned so far. I didn’t mind balding, but I just didn’t feel right at my age, 37. A short sigh comes out. This sigh is not of something sad, nor is it of pure happiness, my heart, I feel is content in every shape in way. This is just another work day, and I’m so happy to be in it. I look down and I feel the coldness of the winter nip at my toes. The feeling getting stronger and stronger. I don’t want to wake up. I dread it. I know what reality is and I know that there is something awful in store for me when I do. I will have to fight to survive. I will have to wake up and fear the two people close to me have not gone. They are the only thing I have in this city, and if it weren’t for Steven I’d be dead. By now, dead doesn’t seem too bad of an option. I let my eyes drift open. Steven was talking to me the entire time. I couldn’t believe I had passed out in such cold weather. I look down at my plastic bag shoes, and slowly raise my hand up.
“Steve, I need . . . “ But he gets it and nods politely.
“It’s okay.” He says in his raspy voice that I have come to respect and love so much.
“We are leaving today.” Finally we are leaving. I have been sitting and waiting for so long for the day when Steven would have an idea, a plan, and put it into action. I shrug and my trash bag body armor shakes, making crackling noises and this wakes me a bit more. I still couldn’t believe I was alive. It’s hard to look at yourself through some filthy shiny object and know that you are alive when everyone else has gone. Why? I ask myself. I don’t believe in God, but it never started that way. My father was the beginner of a cult way back in 1979. His name AK LaVay. He started Satanism, so in that respect I was spawn of the devil. True, I lived by the very basic principles of the religion but I never took part in any of the rituals. I sighed in fear of Cyn. I needed to get to her, she was only 17. I expessed my concern to Steven who just shook his head.
“She will be fine. I’ve found someone else.” Someone else?! I couldn’t believe it in this dark crap of a city there was someone else who wasn’t a Missionary who had survived. It had been almost a full year since we have been killing ourselves off, and now there was someone else.
“It’s a boy. Now I didn’t want us to leave just yet but of course we must with such a young child.” He spat with his words, though they came out so elegantly I gobbled them up. A boy! I was excited and worried all at once. I mean we did have a child on our hands already. But now a girl and a boy.
“How old and where is he?” Steven got up and I looked behind him, A small lump on the ground was wrapped tightly in blankets and curled up. The body was so small, the boy must have been about five.
“His name is Desmond. I found him early on in the night. I don’t know how he has survived, maybe with the Missionaries.” A silence washed over us, both of us pointing our ears up to the sky as if the word itself would bring the Missionaries to us. A bit of jealousy engulfed me. Why are we leaving now, because of a boy, when poor Cyn and I have been waiting this whole time. We had wallowed in the dead city for months now. Running, hiding, almost getting killed every fucking day, and all I cared about was getting Cyn to a safe place, which Steven didn’t seem to give two shits about until this boy.
“He might slow us down. How old is he? Where did you find him?”
“He’s 13.” I didn’t believe him, and Steve could tell.
“You know, not everyone is like Cyn.” I moved my hand to the rail by my side that use to be the canopy for the bus stop. The way he said it pissed me off a bit inside. Oh Cyn. How I loved her so. She was an adorable young goddess, and yes for many many years she lied about her age, she may be lying about it now but that was the game I was into with Cyn. She was a Dominatrix. Small little thing with dark hair and bright blue eyes. She had beautiful freckles that scattered her pale skin. I had been one of her clients for years, but now I was to save her. I looked around eager to get back to her. We had no sort of sexual relationship, but as of now I was living and breathing for her not this boy.
“He is thirteen, and that small?”
“I’ll carry him to the Seven then we go.”
“Wait, where are we going to go, we’ve talked about this before, there is no where to go.”
“The city is dead, but this boy needs our help, we will travel by foot, but we must get him to a safe place.” I had supposed he felt the same kind of sympathy for Desmond as I have with Cyn. Steven didn’t say anything to me, he turned and picked the limp body up. At first I thought he had gone crazy and the boy was dead, as I had seen more dead people in a year than in my entire life. Then Desmond’s legs began to stretch out. He was taller than I thought, bigger too, just skinny. I brushed off my trash bag slowly as it had accumulated dirt, making sure to be very quiet and we left to walk a few blocks away to a shed in the alley way next to where I use to live. Slowly I walked behind Steven. His head was held high as to observe the area making sure our every step wasn’t being watched by some stupid Missionary. About half way there the boy awoke and started to throw his limbs around trying to escape Steven’s grasp. Lightly Steven set him down, and Desmond knelt immediately. He must have been use to the constant watch of the Missionaries, and the world of death. I wondered how he survived. He looked at Steven then at me. He gave me a blank stare and started to inch his way backwards holding something behind his back.
“It’s okay” Steven whispered
“He’s one of us.” He said to the both of us, as I found out long ago, you could not trust even the youngest of people. They were all murders.
“We have to go.” Steven said in a tone that sounded father like and stern. Desmond rose to his feet and pulled his hand slowly from his back. He was holding a hunting knife. This kid was a killer, I could tell from his eyes.
“I won’t hurt you.” He told me in a strange squeaky way. I nodded not wanting to talk to the kid out on the open street and we headed back to the shack.
The shack was basic. It was made of a fallen apartment. The same fallen apartment that I use to watch my neighbors fuck in. There was hardly an entrance, just a small triangular shaped hole in which we all climbed in, me being last and checking the area. Cyn was still sleeping. I didn’t want to wake her, she looked so beautiful and I knew if I did she would freak out to see someone else. She might even try to run out. That and I knew she would be hungry because her small stomach was making noises even as she slept. It was Steven who did finally wake her, he passively stroked her arm until her big eyes opened, alarmed and scared. She looked to me and I without words I put my hand on the boys shoulder to tell her it was ok. Desmond was dark skinned, though he would have been much darker had he been out in the sun doing what normal children do. But there was something about him that made me uncomfortable. I couldn’t pin point it, but something about the way he looked had me on edge. He had put away his knife while we were walking but his brown eyes showed me that there was something else he was hiding.
“I’m Desmond.”
“Cyn.” She rose up and began dress, not shameful of her naked body. The boys eyes grew wide and his eyebrows lifted. I became concerned about him. Just something off. Cyn noticed this and rolled her eyes.
“Oh come on now, like you haven’t seen a fucking a fucking woman before you little fuck. What are you anyway? A Missionary.” She pulled her shirt over her head and fell lightly over her breasts.
“I’m not a Missionary. I’ve killed a bunch though, that’s my job.” Steven gave out a little chuckle and patted the boys head.

The Process of People

2010-04-05T13:39:00.000-07:00

Mommy Dearest
I awake to the sound of my phone. I had the ring tone set to what it came with. That’s how unconcerned I am with phones. I don’t have to pick up my phone to know who it is. No one calls me but her. Not one person in this world gives a shit about me except my dead mother. Sometimes I glance at the phone and wish it was my father, but considering I don’t know if he even has a phone, there is no chance I would pick up anyway. I roll over in bed and look around my apartment. There are no decorations, or knickknacks that would give anyone a hint at my personality. Maybe my personality doesn’t exist. Maybe that’s why my father won’t talk to me, and my mother will. I grab my phone, it’s her.
“Mom?” Just breathing from the other side. I need to talk to her, for once I wasn’t so mad that she had woke me up.
“Mom, I know you can’t respond but there is something crazy going on across the street. I have a bad feeling about what is happening to society.” I hear nothing but small whispers. Is she talking to someone else? Frankly I didn’t care as long as she was listening to me.
“You know I only have one window in my apartment, and through that one window I can see clearly to someone's apartment.” I can picture her nodding her head, and I go on.
“There is a man and a woman. I watched the whole thing go down. I mean the fucking the pregnancy and now she is about to give birth. It was like I was vicariously living through him and his soon to be family, that’s why I’m so scared.” Of what? She would say. But just silence now, no whispering, no breathing. She is holding her breath for me.
“He started beating her early this year. Not in the stomach of course, but just on the head. Sometimes he would throw things at her face, miss and hit her breasts. It always made me cringe just a little, because I am scared for the baby.” I’m sorry, she would say.
“But you don’t understand how banged up this woman is now. It gets worse and worse. She use to be beautiful. Now she looks like nothing more than a beat up prostitute. When he has sex with her he begins to strangle her, only leaving her alive at the last minute. That never happened before, their love making was always so beautiful to me. He use to stroke her long dark hair, and kiss her pale forehead, now he only wants to do her harm. He takes that lovely hair and pulls at it until it comes out, or he will bang her forehead against the wall until she passes out. When he leaves she cries and cuts herself with razor blades.” Maybe I was saying to much but I didn’t care.
“Mom, you there?” and the breathing starts up again.
“She doesn’t cut deep, so that’s not what scares me. What scares me is that he likes to use his hands. He’s not really a big guy, maybe 5’9” but she, well she is so tiny.” I sighed looking out my window, they were asleep. What was it that had me consumed by them, and by Steven. I could never tell my mother about Steven but I had to tell her this.
“You see he uses his hands because he wants to feel her feel pain. Do you get it? He wants to feel her die slowly and she will if he doesn’t stop.” The point I was trying to make was that there was nothing I could do about it, and the conversation went stale when I heard her pull away. This was pointless, everything seemed pointless. I hung up on her and laid back in bed. It was 3:33 AM. The time of the devil. I shrug it off, I’m not religious anyway. The apartment widow across from mine, was much larger. It was very close I could almost make out each freckle on the girls skin. The girl her name was Stacy, the guy Tomas. A strange feeling took hold of me, and I couldn’t sleep. My eyes were glued to the window, and I finally got up and stared. Nothing. They were asleep, why was I spying so late, and what did I expect to see? Never the less I put my chin on the window and watched, patiently for hours on end. My eyes would sometimes drift away from the window and close, but I would shake myself awake and keep my gaze fit. Finally sometime in the morning hours the woman got up, her big belly swinging from side to side. I wanted to hide. I wanted to lay down and close my eyes, but I couldn’t. I was stuck there frozen in my position. She walked to the kitchen counter, and then looked at me. For the first time, I was being watched. I felt a great deal of embarrassment and shame, but her eyes stopped me from running away. She moved from the kitchen to the window. I stood up, as she was, only my belly wasn’t touching the pane of glass. All of a sudden Stacy looked down and moved her hands fast, this was my one chance to hide, but I couldn’t, I just couldn’t leave her. She looked up and put a notebook to the window. “HELP ME” it read in big letters. I sighed and looked around, there was a black permanent marker on the floor, I didn’t want to leave the window so I scooted down and picked up. In my best backwards handwriting I wrote. “TNAC” My alarm scared me, as she began to weep, putting her hands on her beautiful beat up face. A sort of panic formed a ball in my stomach and began to reach my throat. I didn’t know what to do, and I was shaking. My window wasn’t that big and I could never meet her in person. So in small letters I wrote. “eid tnod slp” I wrote a small heart at the end and laid flat on my bed. I couldn’t control my breathing. I felt like my heart would stop at any minute. I picked up my phone and dialed my mothers number. She didn’t pick up so I left her a voicemail.
“I saw her mother, I spoke with her. She needs me, but I can’t do it, I have work ya know?” I hung up the phone and peeked out the window. She was gone and had shut the curtains. A bit of relief took over, leaving that knot to die. I grabbed some Windex and tried my best to scrub off the words, but only made it into a smearing black that wouldn’t allow the sun in. Great, now I couldn’t see clearly, I would have to work on it when I got home. Right now I was so late I couldn’t even shower. I dressed myself and headed for the bus stop, where Steven was waiting for me.
“Did you hear?”
“What now?” His stench was less appalling this morning and I wondered if he actually took bathes.
“12 year old fuck blew the face off of his pregnant mother in law. Only 16 days in jail.”
“How do kids that old even get guns?”
“You got me. It was a double barrel, not even the fetus survived.” I sighed. I wanted to tell him about last night. There must have been a connection, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I decided to stay silent as the bus approached.
“What’s wrong with you Rands?” The bus stopped and people piled to get inside. I moved a bit to get in line.
“Nothing, just talked to the mother.”
“Yeah, that can always bring you down.” Did he ever talk to his family? And if so why didn't they help him. I always had a ton of questions for him, but for some reason I never asked. Maybe it was because I could just make believe he lived this life that I controlled. I smiled at him and entered the bus. In the short distance I could hear him saying he would see me after work. I nodded but at no one in particular. I could feel the bags under my eyes. I needed sleep. I needed coffee. I needed to save her. But all I could do was go to work.

The Process of People

2010-03-22T01:03:00.000-07:00

Finally he is doing some grooming. I walk fast, and approach him cocking my head a bit to the side.
“You liar.”
“What did I lie about?”
“It wasn’t women, it was a family of cannibals.”
“Yeah, those too, some young fucker was telling me about them. Beany’s right?” Steve wasn’t looking at me. I wondered if he had friends. If so maybe the homeless lifestyle wasn’t so bad. I could see him chatting away all day to others of his sort. Making friends with misery, chit chatting about their daily struggles. I wondered.
“Steve do you have friends?”
“You are my friend.” He slid his legs off the bus stop seat and went to his shopping cart where he grabbed an old water bottle and took a few sips. It looked appalling, either the water was made of piss, or it was some sort of sport drink. For my sake I imagine the second one.
“I don’t really get along well with others, but I’m always around for them to talk to. I mean sure some of them want to be my friends. The homeless community has those, but I just tell them to fuck off, this my territory.” I imagine being homeless was like living in the olden days. You fight for your territory, even if it doesn’t belong to you. Steve wasn’t a small guy, not fat either. He was much more lean than me, but had a good muscle structure. He could definitely hold his own.
“So, you just gonna stare off in space all day, or you want to talk about this Beany shit.”
“Yeah, no sorry. I was just thinking about what it would be like to live like you do.”
“It ain’t that fucking great.”
“Yeah, sorry man.”
“Don’t be sorry, I don’t want a damn nine to five.” He spits out something pinkish and utterly disgusting. I look away.
“So, all these little murders, and then these two large murders.”
“Little murders?”
“Yeah, someone has been sticking poison in alchol bottles all over los angeles, the jerks like me who like to get drunk, they drink them, then bam they are dead. It’s the perfect crime, who would want to prosecute someone who is killing the homeless.”
“That’s not a little murder. God damn Steven, what is going on?”
“People are going nuts. It’s in the air. Now I have to be all careful about what I drink. Children are killen too ya know.” I look up. Maybe he is right. Maybe it’s all in the air. Somehow I believe everything he says. I have to, I have nothing else to believe in now.
“Kids?”
“Well this one girl up in Panorama City, she killed her date. Some stupid guy, taking a valley girl out to the movies. She blows his fucking head off with a gun. When she is caught they ask her why, and you know what that stupid teenage bitch said?” I shake my head no.
“She says ‘I just wanted to see if I could kill someone and not feel any kind of regret.’ It was like the bitch was doing a social experiment on herself.” I sighed heavy and sat down next to him. A bus flew by, not stopping, people around me started cussing and dialing their cell phones. Sometimes if a bus is too full it will just pass you up, this time in the day it didn’t surprise me one bit. I fumbled around with my hands contemplating a shower. Not that I didn’t have one this morning, just that being around Steven made me feel I needed to be clean. One of the draw backs to being friends with the homeless.
“What is the world coming to Steve?”
“I’m not sure Rands, but I know this for a fact. The world will end.”
“So that’s the big plan? The world will end.”
“At least in the governments point of view yes. You know that girl, they let her go.”
“No way.”
“Yes, they let her go. I know it’s hush hush, but I was in the valley and I saw her just walking around.”
“What does that have to do with end the world, and why is the world ending anyway.” Here I sat middle aged and talking to a homeless guy about the end of the world. Like it would ever happen, but still if it did, it wouldn’t mean a god damn thing to me. I have no children and the only person I talk to is Steve and my dead mother. I shook it off, hating negative thinking.
“Rands you ok?”
“I’m fine.” I must have been slouching down. Yes, my life was depressing in anyone’s eyes, but it was my life, and I was alive, and really that is all that mattered.
“Tell me about the end of the world.” Steve looked around. People pretending to be on their phones. Or stepping away and staring at the sky. People smoking. Kids even backed away from us.
“Not here, let’s go to my house.”
“You have a house?”
“Well I have an alley way that is all mine. It’s by your house.” That said, I was creeped out for a second then I felt some sort of comfort knowing that Steven had a safe place to go. He scooted closer to me, and the stench that came from him was perfectly putrid.
“Can you ask that guy for a smoke before we go.” He whispered it. Like many people in Los Angeles, this guy mid twenties probably would not give a homeless man a cigarette, but he would definitely give me one. I asked, received, then we headed down the alley way by my house. It just about to get dark out when I saw what Steve was talking about. He had made a home out of two shopping carts and laid a blanket on top. His house. My dream house. I let my feet drag across the street feeling the pebbles under my feet slide and move about. I was wearing my work shoes. One of two pair that I owned. I was never big on shoes. Otherwise I would have given some to Steven. We reached his little humble home and he sat inside.
“Coming in?” I could see him clearly.
“I’ll just sit here.” I began to descend in the middle of the alleyway.
“No, motorcyclists will run your ass over, better you sit against the wall.” I did as he recommended, not really knowing the area, even though I had lived there. I let out another heavy sigh, contemplating what I was doing, and wanting to go back to my home.
“You sure you’re ok?”
“Yeah” I said lying. What could he possibly show me? I was vastly intrigued but shouldn’t have been. My life was slowly edging downhill and this is what I had to look forward to.
“So the end of the world?”
“Well the problem is, it’s not.”
“Why is that such a problem?”
“Scientist.” I nodded not knowing what the fuck he was talking about.
“See.” He pulled out a dirty map he had drawn on. The planets orbiting the sun, that all it was, with giant circle around it.
“Yes, that’s our solar system.”
“Do you see that?” He pointed to the circle containing our small looking solar system.
“Yeah.”
“Well this whole fucking time, we thought we were expanding right?”
“Yep, the universe is expanding.”
“Wrong.”
“How so?”
“It is contracting. We are surrounded by mirrors. The scientist have the date of the end of the world at 2012, that’s all wrong it won’t happen until 3012.”
“Mirrors huh?” I gave a short but very appropriate laugh. Steve laughed too, showing his teeth.
“Well I have the article right here, if you want to read it.” He handed me a cut out of a magazine, and I shoved in my pocket.
“What you’re not reading it now?”
“No” Suddenly I felt like I was being seduced into some mad game.
“Steve I have to go.” I got up and brushed off my pants.
“I’ll bring it back to you in the morning before work.”
“Where are you going?”
Walking away I turned slightly letting seeing his head poking out of his so called “home”
“I have to talk to my mother.”
“Ok Rands see you tomorrow, read that fucking article!” And I did. He was right in some essence. The article was written by a juvenile scientist, whose theory was being inspected by the head of the department of government. Apparently he explained that we had been contracting the whole time and that soon, almost too soon, we would head to head with sun. Nice. I was drunk thinking I had only a year left. I sipped my whiskey and laid down. Who to believe? Some scientist? Or Steve. I decided to go with Steven. He had never let me down before. The tv blared news reports of Alligator related killing spree in Texas, where a hotel owner fed his crew to the reptiles. I shut it off. Enough with the murder. Enough with the news. I had plenty of time, according to Steve. Or so I thought. And peacefully I drifted far off into sleep.

The Process of People

2010-03-03T08:21:00.000-08:00

I could tell the story like this. I could tell you what happens next and then and then, just like that. Fuck I might as well I’m not that great of a story teller, but this is how I’ll do it. The next day at work, I fumble in. Late. I’m never late. But Steve, he is the one that keeps me from being on time. There was a murder. Of course there are a lot of murders to come, but right now I don’t know that. The only thing I know is what Steve tells me at the bus stop. This day he is wearing a black trash bag though it’s not raining.
“It will.” How he knows I have no idea. Maybe he has a real life. Maybe he isn’t a bum at all. Maybe he just plays one, but of course this is damn near impossible given his feet.
“She did actually kill anyone, it was like the Manson murders. She took fly strips, you know the sticky nasty ones you can buy at the dollar store. She took those, and boiled them until the poison rose to the top.” I’m not sure if he is telling the truth. He always has these crazy idea’s and stories, but I stay and watch the orange bus pass, as people stare at the both of us and leave us behind. Alone, we sit and I listen to his every word.
“It was a feminist. Can you believe that?! This war we have going on, she decided she hated her husband for joining.” Yes the war. It was one of those bullshit wars going on because some religion pissed off another, and we just had to get involved. It’s been going on for about three years, but not many people even care anymore. The news will only give seconds to those who died in combat then follow up with a half hour presentation on a stuck beach whale in San Diego.
“So what did she do?”
“Well here’s the thing Rands, she didn’t like being all sexually frustrated, so she started fucking around on her husband. Once she did that her army wife friends caught hold of the trend. They would have get-togethers and talk about cheating and how liberating it was. Suddenly they decided they were on some high horse of power. The husbands would come home and they would feel more powerful then them.”
“So what does that have to do with the killings?”
“Yes, get this. These meetings, the bitches called book club meetings. When the husbands arrived, there was an obvious conflict of interest. Struggle of power in a relationship you could call it. The woman thought the husbands were stupid for going to war, the husbands thought they were brave. At one of these meetings a woman showed up with a black eye. That’s how it all got started.”
“So she was beaten.”
“Yeah but her own fucking fault. Bitch was cheating. But the group thought otherwise. The main girl Brenda Young, she accidentally dropped that fly shit in her boiling eggs. She picked up quickly but not quick enough. The dog got into the trash ate the eggs and died. She had found her passion in life. Home made mother fucking poison.”
“Yes, but please I’m going to be really late for work, what happened.” I’m gripping the side of the bench, and even though Steve smells I stay close to him, wanting every detail, sucking it in like a tabloid.
“So Brenda, she tells her story. Her husband is still away, but this group of woman, 20 or so . . .”
“God damn! Twenty?”
“Yeah, so this group of women. They buy the poison from her, since her husband is gone, and the police could search the house’s and come up with nothing. She sells it to them cheap, and then bam all these ex army fucks are suddenly dying.”
“Wow.”
“Bitches were smart about it too. They knew that the husbands would come home jobless, and they had work. They would just poison one or two items, that they knew the husbands would like. Then let them take there own lives.”
“How many died.”
“It’s been a while, so the body count is pretty high.”
“What do you mean a while?”
“Since the whole fucking war started.”
“Here’s the bus, how many Steve?”
“300 plus.”
“Fuck.”
“Have a good day.” I smiled and jumped on the bus. When I got off the bus I looked at my office for a long time. Soaking it in. Thinking about all those poor people. I didn’t care about work anymore. I had a sudden urge to burn the place down, but instead I went in the office sat down and read my emails. It was a matter of seconds before Mike appeared. Fat balding son of bitch Mike.
“You are late.”
“I know. Three hundred people died.”
“I don’t give a shit how many people died, consider your job canned, I’m transferring you. You can go home. I expected this kind of bullshit from you. After all the company has done Ellington. You are lucky I’m not firing you.” The whole time my eyes were closed. I got to go home for the day. What a relief. I didn’t give two shits about the transfer. My stomach growled. I needed my coffee.
“OK.” I said and smiled walking away. Mike stood there for a second then yelled at me. The whole office grew silent. I panicked a little on the inside.
“Ellington, Monday 2 on the dot. You will be downstairs for retail training.” Everyone held their breath. I didn’t look around. I knew their faces dropped or smiled, or something. I waived a polite goodbye and left, back to the bus stop. Back to my real life. Outside I look up and the sky is dark. It begins to sprinkle then pour. I start to laugh to myself. Maybe I’m becoming as crazy as Steven.
Steven’s gone. I expected that. He always disappears during the rain. In my apartment my phone rings. Everyone that works at Shine Wireless has a nice phone, some new touch screen or smart phone. Not me. I have a piece of shit junk flip phone from two years ago. I look at the caller ID it’s my dead mother. I roll my eyes and throw my phone to the ground. I don’t feel like speaking to her today. Besides we never really say anything anyways. The woman is dead. I lay on my bed and count the number of books on my book self, not having any other choice. There are only five, and that’s including the training manual. I never was a big reader. So I flip on the tv. It’s the News reporting very quietly about a murder. Maybe this is what Steven was talking about, so I turn it up. From downstairs there comes a banging on the ceiling. It’s only 3:30 in the afternoon, but I guess when you live with old people and drug addicts it doesn’t matter. I turn it down a notch.
“Today in Walnut, California a family of what appeared to be ravenous cannibals, were found in a cave on Cherry Creek drive, near Mt.Diablo. This family was massive in size. A total body count of 48 incestuous family members were found living there today. Police say that the Beany family would wait for curious teenagers to climb the mountain, but once in their paths, they would become nothing more than a dinner to the family. Reports found that the deformed children were knowing at the bones of dead US citizens taking off pieces of flesh raw and uncooked. We will have an exclusive tonight with the father and founder of this murderous colony tonight. The death toll is estimated at 50 right now, and rising. The deformed incest born 32 grandchildren are all locked in a safe environment, for testing at the Walnut children’s Mental facility. Shawn Beany, his wife and fourteen children (now grown) are awaiting prosecution and we will be the only channel to get the exclusive. You don’t want to miss out on America’s weirdest discovery since the Manson murders. That’s tonight at 6 PM with Diana Rain.”
I shut off the tv. Maybe he had it all wrong, or maybe he made it all up. But there was a giant murder spree. I shook my head not wanting to hear the news again. In that moment I was glad my dead mother had called, and I had a father who didn’t eat people. Though me and father were never close, and after my mom died became practically strangers, he never threw me in such a terrible situation. I rolled over and bed and let my eyes shut. Sleep came fast as I listened to the rain drops hit my window and thought about what Steven had told me today.
When I awoke I had another dream about God. The thing is I don’t believe in God, not by a long shot. He was never there in my life. My mother never brought me to church. My father never prayed before dinner. I never really liked the idea of him anyway, but for some reason in the past two dreams I’ve had, I’ve been a full time believer. In my dreams I would sit and talk to God as he was my own. A friend. A real savior. Then I would wake up and shake it off, trailing back to my humble atheism lifestyle. The rain had stopped and it was five pm. I didn’t sleep to long, and thought maybe I could catch Steven at the bus stop. When I put on boots, I started to wish I really had somewhere to go instead of faking a bus trip to talk to a homeless man. My phone rings again. It’s my mother. This is twice in one day and I open my phone and hold it close to my hear. I don’t say anything. Neither does she. There is just intense breathing coming from the line, and after a moment I hang up. This is how me and my mother speak. This is my way of having a normal life. I walk downstairs and to the bus stop, where Steven is picking something out from between his toes.

Process of People

2010-03-01T08:59:00.000-08:00

Four hours into my shift I begin to get phone calls.
“Does it cover mental?”
“No.”
“Does it cover vision?”
“No”
“Well then fuck this.” I laugh and nod my head. Those poor fools that work get the crappy end of the insurance. God forbid something happens to them and they go to the wrong hospital, we will deny coverage. Easy as that. If it’s tooth related we will deny it. If it’s eye related, denied. Even if you get in a wreck and knock your fucking eye out, we will say “Nope you need to see a maxillofacial surgeon” Not covered. Denied. If you break down, or have a mental past. Even if it’s A.D.D. as a kid, you will be denied coverage. Though it takes a large cut of your paycheck. Claim Killers, that’s what I call them. They call me and I’m the one to break the bad news. Why our company can’t send out a letter of denial? I’m not sure. My boss probably wants me to do more so he has this guy Bob call me to tell me Tracy Surling from store 13 can’t have her broken leg fixed because she is Bipolar. I’ll never call her. I’ll send her an email, then weeks later when she gets the bill she will call me, and I will refer her to the website, made of shit. This website has four pages of “Can’t cover’s” Once they see that , I’m always called. I’m always the bad guy. To all those struggling retail employee’s living pay check to pay check, I get a call blaming me for strep throat, or the flu. My phone rings. I look at my watch and it’s almost lunch time. The office is damn near empty, if I don’t pick it up no one will know, and I stare for a second before sliding away.
“Randle?” It’s Mike.
“Ellington, pick up that fucking phone, and then we need to talk.” Great my lunch hour would be spent talking to my boss. He had no respect for my own time, it was all about him and the company. I pick up the phone.
“Randle, Human Resources.”
“Hey It’s Jason.” Good Good Jason from store 7 in Riverside. He was no idiot. He excelled in selling, and was the smartest kid of the company. He doubled as a technician, and wanted to start his own company one day. I told him I’d be in. On his breaks sometimes he would call for questions about his employment, but we would end up talking about the stupid emails Mike would send out to the whole company. There was always a “quote of the day” He would steal off some web site, and the whole thing was a load of crap. I couldn’t imagine anyone actually being inspired by anything Mike said or resaid.
“Hey Jason what’s up?”
“This new policy, bullshit or not?”
“Have you ever been to the hospital before?”
“Yeah, once because I broke my nose during T-ball.”
“I’m going with number one then.”
“Ok thanks man, I’ll sign the denial of insurance form and fax it over.”
“Thanks, Jason. But I got to go.” I look over to see Mike standing over me with a think employee book in his hand, and I quickly hang up the phone.
“Was that Jason Berkly?”
“Yep.”
“And he’s not signing.” How did he know?
“No, he has had an injury in the past.”
“So? Bob is going to be pissed if everyone signs the denial form, not only that Jason is our best rep. Everyone will do what he does? Tell me how do you manage to fuck up such a simple task?” I closed my eyes and imagined the bus stop. My one interaction with people, or person. I didn’t want to be here I knew what was coming. He threw something on my desk and I opened my eyes. It was an employee handbook as I expected, one I had given to many new hire employee’s but never read.
“I’m switching your position. I think you’re a great guy Randle, but not a great HR person. You know what I mean?” He put his hand on my shoulder. Cold as stone. The man must be made out of cement. I shuddered a bit.
“Which position?”
“That will be determined, but more on the retail side.” Fuck.
“OK, I’m going to lunch.”
“Have fun.” I get up to go to the lunch room, but before I leave the office.
“Oh and Ellington?” and he points to the book. I grab it and walk out, downstairs to the lunch room, where I would humbly be reading a sales book.
I hold the handbook lightly as if hoping to drop as I enter the small lunch room. The only people inside are those who clean all the stores. I don’t know their names, they all speak Spanish to each other, so I never get in on the conversation. Most of the time I eat it’s awkward and I imagine what the real employee’s of the office are doing on their lunch break. Probably having a cocktail at some high end restaurant. I slam the book down on the table. They stop talking for a minute, then continue as if I didn’t exist. Two females, and the gardener. I open the door to find my lunch gone, and before slamming it shut and demanding answers I see “Randle’s Gay!” written in big black permanent marker on the side of the fridge by the mustard. Nice. I shut the door.
“We will clean that tomorrow Randle.” One of the ladies tells me in broken English. She’s nice when she does speak, but maybe that’s because she makes 6 dollars more than me an hour. I only make 14 when you break down my salary. The retail workers make 12. I wondered if I would be knocked down. No matter the case it wouldn’t be that hard of a blow, considering I had saved and lived alone. I let out a heavy sigh. What was the point of writing I was gay? I lived in West Hollywood, yes, home of the Gays, but I simply wasn’t and there were plenty of homosexuals that were out and about at work. I walked to the nearest fast food place, and ate, leaving the handbook behind. I would grab it before the rest of my work day, and then read it instead of doing my job. At least it gave me an excuse not to work. When I get off at my stop on the way home Steve is there. A comforting feeling engulfs me. He was always there no matter where I was. He had been there since my drunken days at the bar. He was like the father I never had.
“How was work?” I sat and some people stepped away and looked strangely at me.
“I think I’m going to be demoted.”
“I’m sorry man.”
“It happens” I tapped my feet on the ground.
“Want to grab a beer?”
“Can’t Randle, you know they would let me in a bar, besides when did you start drinking.” He was sitting on a towel, sun batheing almost like those would do at a beach. All of his belonging behind him were stacked up in a shopping cart. I dug in pocket and handed him a twenty. I never gave him money. I had always just given him things. He took and gave me a funny look. It almost made me laugh.
“What?”
“That bad of a day huh?”
“Yeah”
“Go home and jerk off, I always feel better when I jerk it after a bad day.” What was a bad day to him? Sometimes I just felt like picking his brain to find the answers, but another day. He was right. I needed to go home and do something to take my mind off work. I stood and stretched my arms.
“Alright Steve, see you tomorrow.”
“Yep, and don’t forget I wanted to show you the plan.” Yes the plan. He had written down a plan of escape for me and him. I was sure it was something crazy that didn’t make sense. He had been talking about it for quite some time now, and tomorrow I would see it. Maybe I would get up extra early to see him. Who knows, maybe I would stay with him late, be late for work. That would show Mike. I waved good bye and walked across the street to my shitty bachelor apartment.

The Process of People

2010-02-26T08:03:00.000-08:00

You know, everyone said it would come in 2012. Everyone danced on the street and made movies about the ending of the world. What the fuck did they know? Nothing. Those idiots with their damn calendars , they thought they knew it all, but it was nothing like that. Man would be the one to end it. Man would be the one to say hush now, it’s time to sleep. Sleep, that’s really what they called it. All those poor fucking idiots. Well not me, and I’m not the only one. Of course I wouldn’t have been safe if it weren’t for him. He showed me what was happening, and of course I thought he was silly at first then they sky said something different. The news projected flu shots all around, at first they weren’t mandatory, but once you’re dead after already being “vaccinated” people start catching on. Let us just step back though, because I am no where near the city now. But I use to be, just an ordinary guy in the middle of LA.
Across the side walk a branch falls, not a large one, just a small one almost small enough to call a trig but not quite. I run my fingers through my brown hair. I could be balding, or this is the start of it. With each step I carefully place my feet over the branch and continue my walk to bus stop. I look at my watch three times, even though I know I’ll be early. That’s how all my days start. Well, that minus the branch. I think about the branch as I’m sitting at the bus stop. One obstacle after another. Isn’t that what life is all about? I’m sitting dressed up in my business casual suit waiting to go to my boring nine to five not far down the street where I live. Steven is here. He is always here. I gave him the name Steven. He would never tell me his real name so I had no other choice. But non the less he was the most reliable thing in my life. He was only gone when it rains, he must find some sort of secret place to hide out. On my free time I try to think of where exactly Steve goes, and what he does. How he lives his life while I’m away. Does he jerk off in the middle of the night, and fight to survive during the day? He is just one of the many crazy homeless men who swamp Los Angeles. The sad part about my life is that everyday Steve is what I look forward to. True, I had in my past, girlfriends and parties and so forth but never any real connections. No one really seemed to stick to me, or me to them. I guess as I got older it just became mundane to go out every night and party. I left that world and stepped into an office where people hate me. It’s all fair game. I hate them too. The money and the idea that I have somewhat of a normal life is the only thing keeping me there. Every morning is the same. I get up and check myself out in the mirror. I’m getting old. My skin doesn’t feel the same. My body sunk in, in some places, and flopped out in others. Still I feel it’s happening too early in life as I’m only 37. With my pale white complexion, I still find myself somewhat handsome. Even if I have to pick out the grey hairs from head every other day. In my studio apartment I look carefully at all my features. I examine them close. It amazes me how much I’ve changed, but it doesn’t bother me that I went from being some outcast rebel to a corporate slut. This is just the way the world works. My name? Randle Ellington, Human Resources for Shine Wireless. It’s simple really we take three carriers and resale their phones and plans. Not only that, but we fix them too, so our profit margin is high. My job has nothing to do with that. I’ll never get commission, or a bonus or a raise. I know this because my boss will tell me what a shitty job I’m doing about every three months, then he will talk about switching my positions. It never happens. I stay here stuck like the rest of the world. I get up at the bus stop, and stand by Steve. I say good morning, but he doesn’t say it back. He is scribbling in a notebook I bought him. I grew tired of watching him write on wrappers, and pieces of debris, left over from some else’s exciting life. He was the shit end of it. He always told me he was a writer. He has told me in the past he had one really good screen play that someone stole. A story about the end of the world. Go figure.
“But they got it all wrong Rands, they fucked up the entire plot.”
“Have you ever considered it wasn’t your screen play.”
“Rands, it had to be, the characters were all the same.” I nod, giving him the benefit of the doubt. Who was I to judge this man? In minutes I would be leaving him anyway.
“Rands, you are getting old buddy.” He didn’t even look at me as he said it.
“You’re not too young yourself.” I said in self defense. Of course, I was getting old, but who was he to talk? His hair all matted up and his face constantly covered with dirt. Shit, his feet even portrayed a man of the age of 60 or more. The bus came and I hopped on as usual. I scanned my card and went to the back of the bus. People just don’t know it, but the back is not scary. In fact, it is the most entertaining of the whole trip. And if you know your way, then I must always recommend sitting there. Today there was a man singing loudly and stomping his feet. Some rap music. I didn’t expect anything less. I closed my eyes and listened to his voice. It was some what smoothing though he skipped words and hummed from time to time. I began to think about how old Steve really was, and how long do homeless people live. Surely there were statistics for such things and maybe at work I would search the internet for answers. I got off at my stop, as usual, early, stopping at the store to buy a pack of smokes, and a coffee. My two wonderful addictions that became friends of mine. I could drink coffee until nine P.M. and still get a good nights rest. I walk to the office and put my lunch inside the fridge in the employee lounge. I had a energy drink in there from the previous day , I would use to do work well, but it had seemed to disappear. I knew one of my fucking coworkers drank it, or threw it away. Even the cleaning lady laughed as I tried to find it. I shook my head and went upstairs, above the garage, to work in my cubical in the corner of the office. I soon realized I was “that guy” and I became depressed. Working slow as always, and having my boss peek around the corner.
“Ellington.”
“Yes Mike.”
“The employee benefits need to be done by the end of the day for the new hires. Weren’t you suppose to get that done last week?” Was this a trick? He had only mentioned I may have had to do them last week. It was never an order of business.
“Not that I recall.” He shook his head and slapped the edge of my desk lightly.
“One more fuck up like this and I’m going have to put you on the sales floor.” I took a breath in and closed my eyes. Retail was something I never wanted. People seemed not to like me, so how would I be able to sale anything.
“Do you hear me Ellington?”
“Yes, sir.” He moved away slowly like a snake, slithering away from a kill. I put my head down and began to write an email to all employees. At the end of it I wrote, And with this Mike is the biggest dick in the company so if you have any questions, please feel free to make his life a fucking wreck, by calling him. I sat back laughed at myself, then erased what I had written and sent the email. Just the start of another work day, the rest of the day would be me getting calls from various stores about what the benefit package included and excluded, or me harassing people to sign the “I decline health insurance” piece of paper. Just another start to a great day in my life.

The Power of Taking

2010-02-12T11:02:00.001-08:00

Chapter 31 – Let the flames burn you down
I couldn’t sleep, although sleep came and went as it pleased. I tried to pull the memories of Alex out of my head inspect them, then get rid of them. That was the plan, but at no success. I couldn’t pull any memories out. It was like they were alive, coming and going as they pleased. It was no longer a question of my ability to gain knowledge, it was more a question of how these thoughts would take over me in an instant. It wasn’t the fact that I had been doing some rather odd stuff lately, it was the thought of killing Victory that scared me the most. It was a strong feeling that consumed me, close to that of which I had when Patrick was around. I thought I was heading in the right direction. Having feelings for Ron meant I did, in fact, have feelings of my own, but with this man I had touched there was no doubt that someone else’s desires could easily override mine, no matter what state I was in. I got up and looked in the mirror. My face was becoming fat and bloated. My feet were huge, and I felt like a whale. How could Victory even lust for me? I began to cry in front of the mirror. I hated the way I looked, and even more so, I hated the way I felt on the inside. I had no one to turn to. Then Zoey knocked on the door.
“Delivery.” He said through the crack.
“Come in.” I said wiping my nose and sitting on the bed.
“Damn every time I see your ass, you get bigger and bigger.” My eyes began to well up. Zoey sat on the bed next me and handed me the candy bar. Still crying, I unwrapped it.
“Don’t be sad. You are suppose to get big, it’s just happening so fast.”
“Zoey, I need to talk to you about something.” And there it was. My brain began to harden, sending shocks of pain down my spine. That fucking rock in my head. It was as if the memories knew I would tell. They would punish me with a god awful headache, but I went on anyway.
“Zoe, that man I touched.”
“Yeah, he was fucked up wasn’t he?” My head hurt so bad I had to lie back on the bed, Zoey became a little concerned.
“You ok?”
“No, my head hurts. Well, it more than hurts. I feel like there is a rock in my head that pounds each time I speak.”
“I have something for that.”
“Zoey, I can’t take anything remember?”
“I checked this out online. It is a strong pain killer, but one they give to women who are pregnant.” He handed me two white round pills, and I put them in the candy bar then swallowed them without water.
“Ok they take about an hour to kick in, I’ll be back. I have to go in the living room and entertain Sarah.”
“By entertain do you mean fuck? You’re a fucking worthless piece of shit.” I held my hand over my mouth and Zoey gave me a foul look.
“What the fuck Yvonne?”
“It’s not me.”
“Sure.” He said as he left the room. I laid back and watched the ceiling. The rock in my head grew strong and heavy. With each breathe I took it began grow more painful. After a few minutes I couldn’t stand it and I walked in the bathroom, back to the mirror and looked deep into my own eyes.
“Go the fuck away.” I said to myself, but it seemed to only grow stronger. Rage engulfed me. I thought I would pass out. Something was coming up. Vomit? I couldn’t tell. I gripped the sink and leaned close to the mirror.
“Go AWAY!” My head pounded so bad I could hear my heart beat, each time bringing on pain. I had no choice in the matter, something was taking hold of me, and making me mad. I pulled my head back and slammed it as hard as I could on the mirror. It shattered, and I fell helplessly to the floor. I laid there staring upward. I could feel the cuts on my head, but they were nothing compared to the pain I felt before. The pain started to drift away. I could feel it release itself through the blood that was running down my face. Zoey had the music up loud he couldn’t have heard what I had just done. Thank God he didn’t because I didn’t want him freaking out on me. I wasn’t hurting the baby, I just needed the pain to go away. I thought I would pass out again. I was almost sure of it. But for some reason I didn’t. I stood up and looked around. There were broken mirror pieces all over the place and the blood of my head was splattered here and there. I began to clean up, now having some sort of strength I hadn’t had before. The pain in my head now completely gone, I was able to clean, and hide the wounds of my forehead before Zoey came back in the room. The cuts themselves, were very small, and could easily be mistaken for pimples. They stopped bleeding after a second, and I opened the door of my room and called for Zoey. He came in.
“Yvonne, you really need to chill out.”
“I know.” I said trying to hide the cuts on my brow with my hair.
“I have to piss like a bitch. Can I use your bathroom?”
“NO!” I instinctively screamed.
“Zoey, this is serious. Please.” I felt euphoric again. Like I had in the hospital. Only now I was trying to hide my face a bit.
“Zoey, when I touched that man, he . . .” I paused not knowing how to explain it to him.
“He what? I know he wasn’t a good fucker, but tell me what’s going on. What’s wrong with your fucking face?” I panicked.
“Pimples, that’s all.”
“Bullshit.”
“This man, he was sick and twisted, his memories are becoming my present feelings.”
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t just disregard them like I can with the rest. I can’t live my life. I keep having flash backs. I don’t know what to do.”
“Yvonne.”
“And the worst part is, he is the reason I hurt myself, he is the reason I did this . . .”
“Yvonne.”
“to my hands.” I showed him my hands, but felt something warm dripping down my face.
“Yvonne! You’re fucking bleeding bitch. What did you do?” I began to cry. Zoey walked in the bathroom and saw the missing mirror.
“Fuck.” He said as he quickly grabbed a towel then rushed to me holding it to my head.
“What should we do? I mean I don’t want the baby hurt. That’s my baby. I mean I think it is.” Zoey let go of the towel and let me hold it. There was a look on his face of shame and almost fright.
“Let’s find him and kill him.” Zoey said in a most serious tone.
“Oh Zoey, we can’t do that, besides it is his past that is haunting me, not his present.”
“How do you know that?” I didn’t. Maybe he was right. Maybe the only way to get rid of this was to kill this man, Alex.
“How are we even going to find him Zoey?”
“I’ll figure out a way. Until then you need to stay home, and not leave. Be careful. Try to think of other things when these thoughts come into your mind.”
“I’ve tried that.” Zoey sighed and looked at the door.
“I need to stay away from Victory.”
“Why?”
“Because, I just don’t love her, and well, you know. This is wrong.”
“I guess at this point it would be a good idea.” Zoey looked down at my belly, then touched it over my dress. I felt the baby kick at him.
“Fuck this Alex fucker. He is not going to destroy my son.” The look in Zoey’s eyes was intense. He put his hands on his face and brought them down slowly.
“I’ll have Sarah look after you, I’m going to find him.”
“Where are you going to look Zoe?”
“I’ll have to call a few people, but I’m going to find that fucker I promise. Do you know his last name?”
“Burnside, I think.”
“Go to sleep, I’ll have Sarah in here in a minute. Do you want me to call Victory?”
“No!” I didn’t want her coming over, not after I had the desire to kill her.
“Why not?”
“Just don’t.”
“Ok, I love you Yvonne.” Zoey’s words made me giggle. The meds were kicking in and I felt great. He had never said anything like that to me before. I laid back and smiled, closing my eyes.
“I’m going to give Sarah some of the pain meds I gave you. Just incase . . . you know.” I nodded and he left the room. Shortly after Sarah came in and plopped down on my bed.
“Are you asleep?”
“Getting there.” I whispered with my eyes still closed.
“Good.” I opened my eyes for a second to see her reading a book, and the thought of that relaxed me even more. Slowly, I began to drift off to sleep. Outside I heard the car start, Zoey was on his way to kill a man, and for some reason I had no doubt that it was the right thing to do.

The Power of Taking

2010-02-11T11:53:00.001-08:00

Your love is just an object
After the short spell of Jason’s vivid and disgusting memories I got up quietly and washed my hands. My finger nails were torn to shit. I was desperate to get him out of my mind. I started to feel bad about Victory. Why didn’t I just tell her about Ron? I couldn’t lose her, she was always there for me, and loved me very much. In return I loved her. I wondered if I would touch her, would her rage become mine? Would I get mad at myself? There was no way of knowing. I didn’t want something like that to happen. I wobbled to my trash can and pulled out the phone. Then threw up shortly after. I was glad I retrieved my phone first. I called Victory.
“Babe, look I’m sorry. Let’s go have dinner, and I’ll tell you about Ron.” This was on her voicemail of course. She would never answer the phone after what I had said, or rather not said.
“Please call me back. I love you.” But did I? At this point it didn’t matter, I just needed someone to be there for me while I undergoing my pregnancy and fighting the battle of memories. Almost immediately she called me back.
“Yvonne.” Her voice was shaky as if she had been crying. I felt a heaviness come over me, this was all my fault.
“Yes, dear.”
“I know you are sorry, but I really need to have the truth. I deserve it. Please don’t bullshit me, I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” Her words lingered in my head. I didn’t know if I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her, but as of now I needed to be with her.
“Let’s go have dinner then. I want to tell you everything. I want to be honest with everything we talk about. I love you Victory, you know that.”
“Ok how about five?” I pulled my phone away from my head and looked at the time it was four.
“Is six ok? I have to get ready.”
“Yeah babe that’s fine, let’s go to that Italian place you love.”
“Alfrado’s?”
“Yep.”
“Ok I’ll meet you there. I love you.”
“I love you too.” And I clicked my phone shut. I had to start over, to rebuild this relationship. I couldn’t let my own crap get in the way of something so good for her. I scrubbed my hands in the sink then put little bandages on each finger, finishing it off with my silk gloves. By six I was more than ready to go.
“Can we go to?” Zoey said as I was walking out the door.
“NO!” I didn’t mean to come off as harsh but it sounded that way.
“Geez Yvonne.”
“I’m sorry, I’m not feeling well, and I need to make things right with Victory.”
“Yes, you do, just go easy on her ok.” I looked away. Why was I being such a bitch?
“Yeah ok.” I said as I shut the door. I got in the car and started taking deep breaths. This night made me a little nervous, I didn’t want to talk about Ron and start crying, or show that I still loved him, but none the less the subject had to come up. If I were to make anything right with Victory I had to tell her about my true love, Ronniebear.
I pulled up at the restaurant and Victory was waiting for me outside. She had a cigarette in between her fingers, and she looked worn down. I had done that to her. I immediately felt like shit. I got out, my big belly swinging me to the side, and I approached her. At first she seemed to not want any interaction with me, as she didn’t say a word when I walked up to her, but I gave her a kiss on the cheek and she smiled. I felt how she felt. An awful feeling was coursing my blood. Betrayal was all I could think of. She didn’t hate me, she was just hurt. I could fix this, and I would. As we sat waiting on our waiter I began to talk about Ron.
“He was the first person I truly loved, and he loved me for who I was in return.”
“Do you still talk to him?”
“No.” She gave me an uneasy look, and I, in return stared down at the table.
“He hates me.”
“Why?”
“Because I kissed my boss and he saw. I tried desperately looking for him, to explain but with no success.”
“Explain what? You cheated on him. I’m sure he has moved on.” It was ok for her to say that, but it hurt to hear it. I didn’t want Ron to move on. I wanted to be his only. My heart started to ache, and I began to feel my eyes swell up.
“You are not over him are you?”
“Not all the way.”
“I knew it. And was your boss a woman?”
“No.”
“So I’m your first?”
“Yes.” This conversation was going nowhere. Victory sat back and let out a heavy sigh.
“Why are you with me Yvonne? Tell me the truth? Did you cheat on me too? Is that the type of person that you are?”
“Not at all, I’m with you because you love me.”
“Just because I love you? How do you even know that?” Her voice started to rise. I wanted to scream out and cry all at the same time. I never wanted to talk about Ron. I had hoped that the subject would just stay hidden.
“I love you, and you me. That much I’m sure of, Victory. Please don’t get upset. I just want everything to be fine with me and you.”
“Well it’s not. How are you going to tell this Ron dude about the baby, and what if he wants back in your life? Will you leave me for him?”
“No.” Flat out lie. I would leave anyone for him. I loved him. I missed him. I began to cry.
“No, no, no. Victory I love you.” She immediately moved to my side of the table and put her arm around me. She thought I was crying for her. But I wasn’t. As soon as I felt her skin on mine, I began to feel for her. I wanted to take her home and make love to her. I wanted to be her everything.
“Can we just go?” She held me closer squeezing me tight.
“Yeah just stay here and I’ll get the food to go, I’ll drive.”
She drove me to her studio apartment. I wasn’t sure why we had gone to her house, but at this point I didn’t care. When I got inside her house, it seemed so small. It had been a while since I had been there, but she had put up pictures of me and her everywhere. It set me back a little, but at the same time I got this warm feeling. She really loved me. I began kissing her wildly and letting my hand search her body. She did the same stripping off her clothes and trying to take off mine too. It was a difficult task with my growing belly, but after she took off my gloves she stopped and examined my hands.
“Why do you have cuts on your fingers?”
“I had another nightmare.” I said while still kissing her naked body like crazy.
“Yvonne, stop, what happened?”
“I said what happened, come on.” At that point I felt like a horny guy. It didn’t matter, let’s just get to the good part. She hugged me trying to comfort me and I slid my hand in between her thighs. She moaned a little as I began to touch her, but with the bandages on my fingers it was difficult. I moved down and began to kiss her wildly, letting my mouth go crazy over her vagina. Her breath grew rapid and she slowly spread her legs apart for me. Honestly I had no idea what I was doing, I just knew it felt good. For her and for me. I could feel what she was feeling and I paused to let out a moan. She grabbed my head and put back on her vagina. It felt so good I couldn’t stand it. In an instant we had both had an orgasm. Something I always liked about our sex. I could fuck her, and still get off. I wiped my mouth and smiled kissing her all the way back up to her mouth. She held me close to her and I could hear her heart pounding. She was still worried for me. Why? I had told her about the nightmares. I sat up and on the side of her, giving her a funny look.
“You don’t need to worry about me.”
“It’s just your hands are really bad.” I looked and I was bleeding through the bandages.
“Fuck.”
“Maybe you should see a doctor.”
“No I can’t do that. Do you have something I can use to clean up my hands?”
“Nope. You need bandages, I have none. Yvonne, really you should see a doctor, maybe they can do something about these nightmares.” No no no. They would stick me in a mental institution in a second. A flash came over me. I saw myself choking Victory. In some other place. Maybe it was my house. I closed my eyes and tried to make the image go away, but it wasn’t working.
“I need to go home.”
“Why?”
“My hands.”
“Ok babe, I’ll take you home. Do you want me to stay the night?”
“Tonight is not a good idea, but tomorrow for sure. You have off the next day right?”
“Yep.” She said cheerfully.
“Ok cool.” We both got up and she drove me home, the whole ride was nothing but silly smiles and small kisses. I wondered if she knew that I didn’t love her the way she loved me. Maybe deep down inside, but it was not showing. When she dropped me off, I quickly put on my gloves, and ran straight for my room where I bandaged myself up and laid on my bed staring at the ceiling. The night had already begun, and I was beginning to get hungry. After a few minutes it became unbearable, and I yelled for Zoey. He came running in the room.
“Yes, Yvonne, are you ok?”
“Just hungry, can you get me a candy bar?” Zoey shook his head and laughed a little. It was cute.
“Yeah I’ll get my baby boy a candy bar.” He shut the door and left. I closed my eyes finally getting some peace and thought only of Ron.

The Power of Taking

2010-02-10T12:49:00.000-08:00

Tuesday
I awoke and the morning light hit my face hard, it seemed a crack in the curtains had found it’s shining ray straight to my eyes. I turned and walked to the bathroom. The pad they had given me barely had anything on it. I was healing quickly. This came as no surprise, I was always a quick healer. Yet as I stepped into the shower, and the water hit my vagina, I gave out a heavy breath in pain. I stopped for a second and then grit my teeth, beginning to wash myself. When I got out, I threw away the blue dress and put on a beautiful but dark red dress. I slipped my feet into some flats. I couldn’t hear anything coming from the living room, and I looked outside to see if the car was still there. It was, which meant Zoey was either with Sarah, or he was asleep. Luckily he was asleep. I made coffee loud, hoping to wake him, but at no success. He lay there limp half way hanging off the futon. I looked down at my watch. It was early in the morning, and Zoey never got up before eleven. Today would be different. He would have to get up and talk to me. I fixed two cups of coffee and sat on the futon, next to him.
“Zoey!” I screamed. He jumped up and for second his eyes lingered around the room. When he spotted his coffee, he took a sip and sat on the futon.
“I think you should see another doctor today Yvonne, those doctors where wack.”
“Yeah they told me I was five months. It’s impossible. I looked on my calendar, and I had my period three months ago.”
“Hmm”
“So it might not be mine?” He looked a little disappointed.
“I’m not sure, that’s why we need to see another doctor.”
“We?”
“Yep, get dressed. There is an OBGYN right down the street, I’ve already called and made an appointment for this morning.”
“It may be your baby too, you have to go.” Zoey shook his head.
“It’s a boy.” A smile filled his face, and he put on a shirt and some shoes. Oh course his normal attire, but I couldn’t help but admire how much he had gotten into shape. His abs were rippled with muscles, and as he flexed his arms to get his shirt on I could see the muscles clearly defined in them too. I looked away as if embarrassed. He finished quick and we hopped in the car, this time I drove.
“So, no nightmares?”
“No, where is Sarah?” He smiled big but tried to hide it by putting his head down a bit.
“She’s coming over later, she is at work right now.” Sarah seemed like a nice enough girl. She was pretty and small with curves that Zoey obviously adored, she was a little pale for my liking, but it wasn’t my girlfriend, so it didn’t matter.
“If the baby isn’t mine, are you going to tell Victory?”
“I don’t know, she doesn’t know anything about Ron.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know, I just never felt like talking about him. You know I still love him Zoe.” He kind of let out a sigh as we pulled into the pink building and parked.
“I can’t help it.”
“Do you only love Victory because she loves you.”
“Most likely.”
“That’s not right Yvonne, something about that is not right.” We stepped out of the car, I was a little mad that Zoey was playing dad with me right now. We walked into the building, and there were pictures of unborn babies everywhere. When I looked down it looked as if my stomach had doubled it’s size over night. Soon they called me in. Zoey sat behind, but the nurse urged him to come in.
“Well we won’t be needing to do a pregnancy test. I would say you are six months in? correct?” No, no three months, but I kept my mouth shut and so did Zoey. Thank God.
“Well let’s get you on the table. Here is a white robe, take off all your clothes and I will be back in a minute. Please relax and lay down on the bed.” On the walls were all sorts of pretty pictures. One of the sunset I particularly liked. I stared at it for a moment and got lost in the picture. My mind felt heavy. I closed my eyes, and all I could see were pictures of blood and girl. A girl being held captive. I opened my eyes again and shook it off. It was unfair that these images began haunting me. Why me? Was it this that had caused my self mutilation? Zoey coughed loud, on purpose.
“You gonna change or something? I can turn around. It’s cool.” And he did as I slid my clothes off.
“This is gonna be gross as fuck huh?” He said with his back turned.
“Zoey, I don’t know what they are going to do.” She knocked lightly on the door then stepped in right as I was lying back on the bed. Zoey turned, smiled and sat down. She walked up to me and put a blanket over my lower part and exposed my belly, almost exposing my breasts. Zoey’s eyes were glued to my stomach.
“God damn that shit is huge.” The nurse quickly gave him a look of disapproval.
“It’s ok, he’s the father.” She continued to strap my big belly with pink and blue stretch band type objects, then put a round white thing in the middle. Immediately we could hear a heart beating. The heart beat itself was fast. God awfully fast. I cramped up for a second.
“It’s fine, the babies heartbeat is normal. A little high, but in the normal range. I’m going to go ahead and check your cervix and then do a sonogram, to see how old the baby is.”
“Oh I already had one of those.”
“I’m going to do an internal sonogram, if that’s alright with you.” She picked up a long stick that almost looked like a dildo with a wire.
“Sure.” I said. Zoey sat back and watched the woman as she stuck her hand under the sheet, then pulled it out. This time it didn’t hurt at all. Maybe it was because this woman was smaller in size compared to the last doctor.
“Ok, everything feels fine, are you ready to see your baby?” She was more excited then Zoey and I, who were kind of afraid of what we might see. She lubed up the dildo like thing and stuck in me. I wasn’t ready for it and I gave out a little squeak. Zoey laughed, and the doctor told me to relax. On the monitor was my baby boy, and damn he was a boy. I could see all of him now. His tiny hands, and legs. His whole body with a tube like thing coming out of his belly.
“Yes you are defiantly six months, and counting. The baby will come soon! He looks healthy as a horse! Do you want pictures to bring home?”
“Yes!” Zoey said full of excitement. How the hell did I go from being three months, to five months, to six months in three days. I sighed at the thought, and let her finish. She printed us out six pictures of the baby. Each had a word and circle around it. Zoey took the one where it said Boy, and laughed at the little penis that was circled.
“Just like his daddy.” I filled out some paperwork, and paid for the visit. Then we got in the car, where I let Zoey drive us home.
“Maybe I have super jizz!” Zoey exclaimed on the way home.
“No, I think it’s got something to do with me. Maybe I am having an accelerated pregnancy.”
“Because, you’re a witch.”
“I’m not a witch Zoey.”
“You’re something special.” The thought crossed my mind that I would know everything about my son’s life. It scared me. It would make parenting hard. It would be very difficult to know everything about someone you were that close to. Zoey pulled into the car port and we hopped out. Sarah’s car was outside our house, she must have been waiting on Zoey. I walked on the side and tapped on her window, she was asleep.
“We are back.” I said as she rolled down the window.
“How’s the baby.” I looked at Zoey.
“It’s ok Yvonne, she knows it was an accident.”
“The baby is healthy. Really healthy.”
“How far along are you?”
“Six months! And it’s a boy!” Zoey shouldn’t have said that, it was none of her business, I wondered if he had told her about me, and when she got out of the car I grabbed Zoey by the arm and swung him around to face me.
“You didn’t tell her did you?” I whispered.
“No bitch of course not.”
“Good, keep that shit to yourself.”
“It’s fine. It’s fine.” He said backing off. We all went inside and my cell phone rang. It was Victory. For some reason I didn’t want to see her. She wouldn’t believe me anyway if I told her I was six months. After the fifth phone call I laid in my bed and threw the phone to the ground. I peeked out the window and saw Victory driving up. Fuck. She was suppose to be at work. There was a knock at my door.
“Come in” I said giving up. Victory walked in and glanced at my belly.
“Woah.”
“Yeah I know I’m getting big.”
“How many months did they say you were.”
“Six.” It just came out. I didn’t want to tell her but it slipped. I slid underneath the covers and rolled to my side.
“Six? That means that Zoey is not the father! Who is Yvonne? Who?”
“ I don’t know.” I lied. It was Zoey, but there was no explaining. She knew we only had sex three months ago, if I told her it was still Zoey, then she would believe I lied to her about us only having sex once.
“What do you fucking mean you don’t know? What the fuck Yvonne? Who is it?”
“Ron’s most likely.”
“Most likely?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Fucking whore.” I couldn’t believe she said that. I had felt how she felt about me and never would I have imagined that she would call me that.
“Calm down, this isn’t your baby, it’s mine.”
“I feel like everything that comes out of your mouth is a lie Yvonne.” She spotted my phone on the floor, then picked it up and threw it in the trash.
“Fuck this.” She said as she was walking out the door.
“Wait?”
“What? You don’t care. You don’t even answer my phone calls. Fuck you, I’m leaving.”
“It’s not what it seems, and I have only been honest to you.” As much as I could have been.
“Honest? Bullshit. Why won’t you talk about Ron? How come I know nothing of this guy?” I stayed silent, remembering him, and wishing to have him back in my life.
“Fine. It’s over.” She slammed the door and left the house. Immediately after Zoey knocked on my door.
“I don’t want to talk.”
“Ok, but you should really be nice to her.” Zoey said through the cracks.
“We will talk later.” He left, and I laid back and as soon as my head hit the pillow, I had some sort of rage engulf me. I hated Victory. She didn’t belong with me. She belonged with . . .
“Jenn” I said out loud. Then a flood of Jason’s memories took hold of me. The hospital I thought was my own memory, but I was looking at another girl laying on the bed, her stomach cut open. I wanted to kill her, I had to. This girl needed to die at my hands, and then I began to weep. This wasn’t who I was. I am not a killer. The memories were taking over again, and I wanted it to stop, but it continued on. I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on something else. The baby, Zoey, his new girlfriend. I couldn’t stop crying and at some point wished there was a way for me to release this need of destruction. Then slowly the memories started to fade. I looked at the wall above me. I had ran my nails down the side of it. So hard that my fingers were bleeding. What the fuck was I doing? What was happening to me?

The Power of Taking

2010-02-09T10:59:00.001-08:00

Blue Mondays
I awoke to Victory curled around me. Was she here last night? I couldn’t even remember. She must have snuck in while I was asleep, and crawled in my bed. Never-the-less, it felt good to have her hold me while I began to wake. I wanted to stay in that position. She was so soft, warm, and cozy. I could feel her dreaming. I could feel her love for me, even as she slept. I pulled her arms around me closer. When I tried to reposition I felt something warm and wet between my legs. A little bit of panic arose and I threw Victory’s arms off of me and looked underneath the covers. There was blood, not a lot, but enough to be frightened by. It was coming out of me. I was afraid the baby way dead. I turned to Victory, who was still asleep, and shook her awake.
“What’s wrong hun?” She said in her sleepy voice. Zoey opened up the door before I could answer, he looked proud and had a smile ear to ear. A small girl with dark red hair stepped out beside him. She looked nervous and shy.
“Yvonne, this is my girlfriend! Sarah.” Victory was wide awake and sat up in bed that’s when she noticed the stains coming from the sheets.
“Oh shit, Zoey go get the car, Yvonne is bleeding!” I closed my eyes and felt dizzy. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t get up. My body now felt dead weight, and I wasn’t sure why. Zoey without questioning hurried and left to the room to start the car. Victory jumped up and asked this Sarah chick to help her. They were both pulling on my arms and I tried my best to open my eyes.
“Yvonne? Yvonne?! Are you awake? Come on! Get up!” I arose steaditly and put almost all my weight on the two girls as they brought me to the car.
“What’s happening to me?”
“I’m not sure babe, but we will find out soon. It’s ok just try and relax.” I had on a blue dress, and with no shoes, I walked to the car, where Zoey was already revving the engine. I looked down and my blue dress was spotted with brown around the ends. I looked horrible. I felt even worse. The Sarah chick spoke, her voice was light and natural. She loved Zoey, or more accurately was infatuated by him. She was an only child. Fuck why did she have to touch me now?
“Is she pregnant?” She asked as soon as we were all in the car.
“Yes.” Victory and Zoey said at the same time. Victory was in the back holding me and Zoey and Sarah were in the front of the car. My vagina began to hurt bad, as if someone had just kicked it, I bent over in pain, and Victory rubbed my back.
“It’s going to be ok.” She kept saying it, but it wasn’t sticking. I could feel her panic, as much as my own. We pulled into the hospital where Zoey immediately hopped out of the car and to my side where he opened the door.
“Here, stick this in your mouth.” He handed me a bar.
“NO!” I screamed not wanting to hurt the baby.
“Do you want to know every fucking doctor here. Take it!”
“Zoey what the fuck are you doing?” Victory pushed him out of the way and he sprang back and ran inside before we could even get there. When we walked in they were already waiting for me. No one touched me but they gave me a room, where the nurse said the doctor would be in shortly. Zoey was filling out paperwork and Victory had to stay behind, even though I said she was my sister. Only seconds later a doctor walked in. I was laying on my back on the uncomfortable bed, with my legs dangling.
“Seems your husband said you aren’t to be touched by the naked hand. He said you have a skin condition. Is this true?” Clever Zoey. I nodded.
“Well, that’s not a problem here, we always wear gloves. I need you to spread your legs apart for me.” I did as he said. Every time he touched me I wanted to scream out in pain. He put his fingers inside of me, and then pulled them out. When he took off his gloves I noticed there was not a drop of blood on them, this gave me some sort of comfort.
“How many months are you into the pregnancy?”
“I think three.”
“Well, it looks like a little more than that, but ok. You are fine Yvonne, there is only external damage.” External? I was confused, and he could see that.
“Yvonne, do you have nightmares?” Yes, but not the kind I could talk about.
“Sometimes.”
“It seems you have done some external damage yourself. This was self inflicted. Maybe with your hands.” And he pointed. I looked at my hands and they were brownish red tinted. I had pieces of skin underneath my fingernails, why hadn’t I noticed before?
“So, the baby is ok?”
“As far as I can tell, I’ll have to get an OBGYN in here to double check. This happens sometimes, when women get pregnant they have nightmares, and the strangest things take place. Don’t worry, you just have small gashes, nothing too deep. You won’t need stitches or anything. I would say just wear an extra heavy pad, and get a lot of sleep. Keep the wounds clean, and so forth.” He looked at my chart.
“If something like this does happen again, we will need to take you in for mental evaluation. We don’t want the baby to get hurt.” I froze. I wasn’t crazy. But it seemed I had hurt myself in my dreams. I didn’t want to look down and I put my dress back over my knees.
“Ok” I said softly.
“The OBGYN will be in shortly, do you want me to call on your sister?”
“My sister? Oh yeah, please do.” He left the room, and Victory came in shortly after. It looked as if she had been crying. I felt sorry for her, and opened my arms wide so she could fall into them. I held her close to me feeling her fear.
“It’s ok. The baby is fine. I had a nightmare or something, and did this to myself.” She backed away from my embrace.
“You did it to yourself?”
“Yes. The doctor said it’s normal for strange events like this to happen.”
“But what did you do?” I wasn’t a hundred percent sure what I had done.
“I guess I scratched myself in my sleep?”
“Scratched? That’s a lot of blood for scratching.”
“I don’t know what I did, could you help me up so I can wash my hands.” As soon as she did all the pain came back ten fold straight down, and hurled over. I felt sick instantly and Victory grabbed a trash can so I could puke.
“Thanks.” I said as I slid off the bed and made my way to the small sink they had in the room. I washed my hands three times, but the stains were hard to remove.
“Go tell Zoey everything is fine.” I said as another doctor knocked at the door.
“Ok, I love you.” She said it so much, even that was making me nauseated.
“I love you too.” I whispered, and she kissed my forehead.
The OBGYN wobbled in and told me to lay down. She had on gloves too, I guess the word got around. She was a plump lady with rosy cheeks. I felt a sort of calmness with her appearance. She had the kind of face you could trust, and I immediately laid back on my bed. She began to softly examine me. Even as tender as she was, it still hurt for her to touch me.
“Ok I’m going to go in now, this may sting a little.” It did way more than sting, I let out a yelp, and she stopped momentary.
“I’m going to give you some medicine in your IV, it’s pain medication, but it won’t hurt you or the baby don’t worry.” She pulled out a little bottle from the drawer and inserted the liquid into my IV. Instantly I felt better. I felt like I was on top of the world! Like I could just stroll out of there that second and build a house or something.
“Better?” I smiled. She did what she had to do to me. Whatever it was I couldn’t feel a damn thing when she was done. She put cold liquid lube on my stomach and began to move this stick like thing all over it.
“what are you doing?” I said lightly.
“I am doing a sonogram. See that tv, that’s your baby.” I looked up. It was big! I didn’t expect it to look like that. I could see it head and feet and arms. A warm feeling engulfed me.
“It looks like your about five months in. You are very tiny for that. What is your diet like?”
“I eat a lot of different foods.”
“How often?”
“Two or three times a day.”
“Ok well” she looked at my chart “Yvonne, you need to eat at least five times a day, just to catch up on the weight you need.” I was barely able to understand her and just nodded my head.
“Do you want to know the sex of the baby?”
“What?”
“The sex, do you want to know if it is a boy or a girl?”
“You can tell?”
“yes, very much so.” A girl, please be a girl.
“Boy.” Oh damn, a baby Zoey it was. What I was confused about, but uncaringly so, was the fact that I was five months pregnant. It was impossible. Even if it was Ron’s I had my period three months ago, I remember, or did I? Everything was very blurry.
“Ok, well I gave you a pad, so you can go. You may feel a little sticky because of the sonogram, but you’ll be fine, as long as you’re not driving.”
“I’m not.” She smiled at me, and left the room, where shortly after I followed. As I walked into the waiting room, Zoey and Sarah were laughing at something. Victory was staring at me with a smile on her face.
“Are you ready doll?” Of course I was. I felt tired, yet still euphoric. I walked slowly to the car, where I noticed my reflection. My hair was tangled and all over the place. I looked so hideous, and laughed at myself.
“I’m glad you’re ok.” Sarah said on the way home.
“Sorry you had to meet me like this.”
“SO you’re a sadist bitch huh?” Zoey smirked, and Sarah slapped him lightly on his arm.
“Don’t call her bitch.” I liked the girl already. Zoey frowned a bit then glanced at her smiling face, he smiled back. It was the cutest thing I had seen in a long time. When we pulled up I knew I had to talk to Zoey alone. He might not be the father after all, it might have been Ron, but I wasn’t too sure. I had supposed I should tell Victory too, but I didn’t want to communicate with her at the time. Something about her appalled me and I didn’t know what it was. I asked her to let me sleep, and she did quietly giving me a kiss then exiting my room. I floated off peacefully to sleep once again.

the Power of Taking PT.3

2010-02-08T11:45:00.000-08:00

Part 3
“Yvonne?” I awoke to four people standing around me. The man I had touched, the clerk, some cracked out looking woman, and Zoey.
“Yeah, I’m ok.”
“Shit bitch you scared the piss out of me.” Zoey looked to the man I had touched.
“What the fuck happened?”
“I don’t know” The man said smoothly, calmly, almost creepy.
“She just passed out.”
The old clerk shook his head, he was an Indian man with graying hair.
“She’s prego, did tha bitch land on her stomach?”
“Can someone help me up?” Zoey immediately knelt down and helped me to my feet.
“That happens.” Said the man with such a thick accent I almost couldn’t understand him.
“Yeah it’s fine. Look here is the cash for the things. Can you bag them so we can go?” The weird guy, and crackhead girl had already disappeared. The clerk hurried in packing and we were out the door.
“Yvonne, can you walk? Are you sure you’re ok?”
“Yeah, I just . . .” Flashing through my head were the strangest of images. Dead animals, blood, dirt, vomit. I knelt down and threw up.
“Fuck Yvonne we need to take you to a hospital.”
“No, this is natural I think.”
“You are not natural bitch.” I closed my eyes and tried my hardest to concentrate. It wasn’t like all the others. The way I took information from this man. All I knew was his name. Jason. I knew that because I could hear a woman screaming it out. Why couldn’t I feel what he was feeling? It was like some sort of weird dreams that were happening in the present. I couldn’t stop it. Finally when it calmed down, I explained to Zoey how to fix the tire and I laid in the back of the car. My body felt as if it was hit by a bus. I needed sleep badly, but was afraid of what I might see. Why did I pass out, and what had that man done? All these images were they fake or real? I couldn’t tell, everything was so blurry. I had to sleep, my eye lids slowly closed again, but this time without a dream.
When I awoke we were close to home. On the 101 it was backed up even at five in the morning.
“How long did I sleep for?”
“Well we are almost home, if this mother fucker will MOVE!” and he honked the horn and sped around a small Honda.
“Sure you don’t want to go to hospital?”
“Yes I’m sure, I just need to go home.” Then something in my head started to pound, it felt like a rock growing larger every time I took a breath.
“Zoey do you have anything for head aches?”
“What did that fucker do to you?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Wait you didn’t take all his shit?”
“No. Just some of it like you.” What could I do? Should I even tell Zoey about the disturbing thoughts that filled my head. The flashes of dead animals, the blood, the screaming. What would he do? I decided it was best not to tell him.
“Well, maybe you are losing the ability?”
“Nope, I know Victory from head to toe.”
“So every time you guys fuck you know exactly everything?”
“Oh Zoey, why do you have to reference fucking, but yes.”
“Maybe he was like Ron.”
“I don’t think so, I’m not up for discussing it let’s just go home.”
We drove in silence all the way home. All the while my mind would go blank then fill with dark thoughts. I would shake it off by thinking of the baby, of Zoey, of Victory, but every once and while it would sneak up on me. This man was twisted, and cruel that much I knew, I started to wonder if he held some sort of secret ability like me, and that’s why I passed out. What ever it was, it was definitely dark, or evil. When we got home all I wanted to do was sleep. I crawled into bed, but I kept tossing and turning. I wasn’t ready for sleep. The images slowly started to disappear. When I closed my eyes, I could see someone’s hands being nailed into a chair. I could see a young woman being tied up. I could see another woman laying on floor with her hand cuffed to the bedpost. But these images were going away. They were being stocked in the library in my head, and I would never pull them out again. That’s how it worked. I would remember, but never pull it out to examine. I called Victory at nine, when I gave up on sleeping.
“Hey babe, are you back?”
“Yeah, but I passed out last night at the store.”
“Oh fuck, are you ok?”
“Yeah just a little tired, and dizzy.” And full of the craziest shit ever.
“Ok, well I guess get some rest I’ll come over later maybe two?”
“That sounds good. Night beautiful.”
“Sleep well.”
I hung up the phone, finally tired, finally the images and scenes quit playing in my head. I looked down at my protruding belly and placed both hands on it. My hands were freezing but my stomach was warm. I felt it move inside me. Not like the butterflies before, but a real kick. It was the oddest feeling I ever had, yet one that actually felt good. This thing was a part of me. I couldn’t just throw it away. I smiled at the thought of picking out baby names and small clothes. I closed my eyes and let those happy thoughts take hold of me, then I drifted off to sleep.
From the Bird’s Eye
“My mother died, and I’m sure I’ll never find my father.”
“How do you know that?” I looked around. The truth was because I remember her dieing when I was born, she sold me, but wanted a hirer price. Vaskin just shot her instead, right in the face. He later told me my mother was a whore, and that she was unable to get pregnant, up until I was born. He had thought of her as a cursed woman and so did the people of the town where I lived. She must have been just like me, but I could never know.
“This guy told me.”
“That Vaskin guy?”
“Yeah.”
“So you have no relatives at all?”
“That’s why I thought I was infertile.” Victory looked around my room, her eyes jumping from object to object. She had brought me lunch in bed, I loved her for that, and I grabbed her hand so I could feel it stronger, but all I felt was disappointment.
“What’s wrong?” She thought I was a whore.
“How many people have you slept with?” Honestly I didn’t know. I had been doing it since I was a child and only when I left the brothels did I become more reserved. I never really thought about doing a number count. I could if I dug in my library, but right now was not the best time, not with what happened with that man, Jason.
“I was born into a brothel Victory, it’s been a lot.”
“But you said you were tested, so it couldn’t have been that many, right?” She wanted to see the papers showing I was clean, she didn’t believe me. I pulled my hand away from her. It was true I was clean, not one STD on me. I was unlike the other girls at the brothel, who were filled with them, dying of them, and living with them. I always assumed that I didn’t get the STD’s because Vaskin only gave me good high class client’s. Even at an early age, I knew he loved me and never wanted me ill. My heart sunk. Vaskin, Ron, both were pulling my emotions right now and I began to weep. Victory looked at me with worry on her face.
“What’s wrong? I didn’t bring up any unpleasant memories did I?” No she didn’t. I did.
“I’ll show you the papers that prove that I’m clean.”
“You don’t need to do that, Yvonne.” But I did. Just to keep her happy. I pulled out the papers from my drawer and handed them to her. She looked at them.
“You are really lucky, you know that right?”
“Yeah.”
“Like there is something special about you. You just by chance made it into this life you have right now, and the life you have with me.” She kissed me deeply and held me in her arms. I felt her warm loving feelings flow gently through me and I pulled away and smiled. I loved her so much when she touched me. It was like the natural love I had for Ron, only when she didn’t touch me, it seemed to weaken tremendously. She laid me back on my bed, and pulled up my shirt. At first I thought we were going to have sex, but then she laid her head next to my tummy, and began to rub it.
“Do you want a boy or a girl?”
“I really haven’t even thought about it, I just know I don’t want to abort it.” As soon as I said abort something flashed in my head. A horrible image of two women on the floor fucking in a puddle of blood, one having a syringe poking out of her stomach, it was as if I were just peeking through the door, and then flash it was gone. I jumped up. This scared Victory.
“What’s wrong?”
“I felt like I was going to puke.” I lied. The memory had vanished and was seeming hard for me to recall, the details themselves, burrowing somewhere unknown in my head. This was out of my control, and that scared me. I was the only one who could bring up or put back information, and now I was not in control of my own mind. Victory had gone to the bathroom and brought back the small yellow trash can.
“Still sick?”
“No, I, um well, I don’t know. I keep almost blacking out. Something weird is happening to me.” I couldn’t explain any of it to her, she wouldn’t understand or believe me. It was hard. I needed to talk to someone, but who? Zoey? He was the only one I trusted, but I would have to wait until Victory left. She held me in her arms.
“Pregnancy is tough babe. You will be ok, don’t worry so much. It will put stress on you and the baby.”
“What were we talking about?”
“Boy or girl?”
“Oh definitely boy.” I said hoping it was a boy. I don’t why but I just wanted to dress up a little boy version of myself. My mind was spinning, I didn’t know what to do, I needed a distraction.
“Victory?”
“Yes doll.” She said as she rubbed my belly.
“Do you want to go clothes shopping for the baby?” Her face lit up with excitement and I dragged myself out of bed so we could go to the mall, and look for unisex baby items.
Inside the mall it was packed. Typical Sunday traffic, but I had dressed myself from head to toe, so that I would not touch anyone. I swore to myself that I would do my best to not touch another person as long as I was pregnant. After the experience I had I didn’t want to harm the baby, and who knows what damage could have been done when I passed out. We walked into multiple baby stores and picked out little yellow shoes and blankets and got a lot of tiny diapers for the child. When I got home, both Victory and I were carrying two arms worth of baby stuff. Zoey was watching some game as usual, and when he saw us, his eyes grew big.
“Woah, hey, you guys, wait.” We were headed to my room to put up the baby stuff.
“Hey Zoey, just did some shopping.” He looked a little upset.
“So that means you’re keeping the fucker?” I couldn’t have Zoey referring to this child’s mother as a bitch and the child as a fucker.
“Zoe, we are going to have to have a talk.” I gave Victory a look that meant it needed to be just me and him. She dropped the bags down lightly, and wrapped her arms around me, kissing me deep. This was her way to prove a point to Zoey that she was the one who would be with me. I sighed when she pulled away.
“I love you call me later?”
“I will. I love you too Victory. Bye babe.”
As soon as she was out the door, Zoey got up and helped me carry the bags into the kitchen, where he examined them.
“Cute shit.”
“Yeah, but really Zoey, grab me a beer and let’s talk on the couch.”
“Can’t, no beer for you.”
“Oh yeah.” I said, forgetting that I was not to do a damn thing until after the baby was born.
We both sat down on the couch. He looked nervous, drinking his beer with such speed I thought he may be drunk by the end of our conversation.
“Zoey, I am having this baby. With Ron I couldn’t get pregnant. I tried a lot of times, and it just never happened. I have to have this baby.”
“Yeah, but it could have been Ron right?”
“No it was me, just trust me.”
“Ok, I’m not ready to be a father though.”
“That’s alright, you don’t have to be, think of yourself as a donor, you just donated to me. I want this baby.” He laid back and sipped his beer slowly.
“Yeah, that works. That makes me feel a lot better.”
“Now the guy that I touched.” Fuck. For some reason or another I couldn’t say it. It didn’t want to come out. It didn’t want me to tell anyone. What ever it was, it was eating my brain alive. It felt like a rock in my head every time I started to talk about it. I shook my head as if to try and shake it out of me.
“What about him? Yvonne answer me.” Zoey must have asked me more than once.
“He was just weird and I think that’s why I passed out.” Images in my head started to surface. A held down arm, a cut off hand. I was doing these things. It made my stomach turn and I ran to bathroom. While I was throwing up the images started to disappear. Zoey knocked on the door of the bathroom.
“That bad huh?”
“Yeah”
“Well just forget about him, I mean Red was a pretty fucked up guy too.”
“I can’t forget you know that.”
“Yeah but you’ll do something or . . .” and he trailed off, I guess he was getting another beer. I opened up the cabinet and took two aspirins. As I went back out I told Zoey I would be going to bed as I didn’t feel well.
“What about all this baby junk?”
“I’ll get it in the morning. Good night Ron.”
“It’s Zoey, Yvonne, what the fuck is wrong with you? The baby is really fucking you up.” Was it the baby? Why did I call Zoey Ron? I didn’t know. Frankly my body was weak and tired and I didn’t want to know. So I shut myself in my room without answering Zoey’s question, and fell asleep with all my clothes on.

The Power of Taking

2010-02-07T11:41:00.000-08:00

Following the Stars of Your Eyes
I came out the bathroom holding the tests in my hand.
“EW fuck ew, damn it bitch.”
“Zoey!”
“I mean I’m sorry.” He looked down.
“I’m not sorry. You can’t have a kid that means I have to pay child support, this happened to one of my homies before.”
“Zoey, I’m not going to make you pay me money.” He gave me a weird but serious look.
“Let’s just go home tonight, I’ll make our rent and we can leave. I feel sick.”
“Of course you do. You’re gonna start throwen up everything.”
“What?”
“Yep, then that big headed bastard is gonna shoot out of your vagina.” That part I knew, but the rest, I was blind to. It seemed Zoey knew more than me.
“Zoey, have you had a baby?”
“Yeah a dead one, got a bitch knocked up then had to pay for her to get it sucked out.” I tapped my bulging stomach lightly, it growled as soon as I did. I didn’t want someone sucking this thing out of me, but I wasn’t ready for a child, and what if Zoey was right? What if the pills fucked the baby up?
“Zoey, you don’t think I fucked up this baby with those bar things?”
“Prolly not, too early, but you can’t do shit if you’re gonna keep tha thing. No smoken, no drinken, no pills, nothing.”
“What do I do about Victory?”
“Well, we go home and explain it to her, of course she thinks we are fucken, I mean you’re fucking prego, Yvonne. That shit just don’t happen with dykes.”
“Yeah I guess I can see where she is coming from.”
“Damn straight, I’d be a pissed off bitch too.”
I went down stairs and stared at the slot machines glowing and blinking brightly in my face. The lights made me sick. I hurried my gambling, winning each time, not caring if they caught on or not. I did all this in an hour and then I went upstairs to grab Zoey so we could leave. I had assumed he would start packing our stuff, but when I go up stairs he was asleep.
“Zoey!” He didn’t move an inch, so I kicked his left leg.
“Zoey, wake the fuck up, we have to go home I have to see Victory.” Zoey opened his sleepy eyes a little then looked at his watch.
“Fine prego, I’ll pack.” Zoey’s things were everywhere, it would take him about an hour to pack, I knew I had to do some of his packing for him, it was like he was my kid or something. But I decided to call Victory first, and better explain the situation, then tell her I would be home early. I called and she didn’t answer. I knew she was off work by now, why wasn’t she picking up? I had hoped she wouldn’t do to me what Ron did, after the third phone call she picked up.
“What?” That was her hello, that meant she was pissed.
“I’m coming home tonight.”
“Isn’t it a little late for that?”
“I changed our plans, we will be home I want to see you tomorrow morning. I know you don’t work.” She gave out a heavy sigh.
“I can’t be treated like this Yvonne, if you love Zoey, stay with him, be with him, don’t pull me around like a rag doll.” I stepped out of the room.
“I don’t even know if I’m going to keep it. I mean I thought I couldn’t have kids.”
“Yeah that’s what you told me too, a big ass fucking lie.”
“It wasn’t a lie. I tried to have kids with Ron, but it wouldn’t happen.”
“That’s the second time I’ve heard you mention this Ron guy without any explanation of the past. What am I suppose to think Yvonne? Who the fuck is Ron? And this baby, just abort it.”
“I don’t think I can.”
“Because you’re in love with Zoey, just admit it.” I walked up and down the long hallways, the carpet was dark red and swirled with flowers. I wasn’t in love with Zoey. Not at all. The fact was, that this might be my only chance to have a child, and how could I just pass that up.
“I love Zoey as a friend. You know that.”
“Do I?”
“Victory, let’s have this baby together, you and me. Zoey can be part of it too, but let’s do this together.” Silence. Dead air. I was panicking. I didn’t want to raise the baby with Victory, I just wanted her to calm down enough to keep our relationship steady. I knew it was wrong but I had to say something like that.
“Victory?”
“Yes, Yvonne. I love you.” She paused again letting out a sigh.
“Let’s start a family.” I smiled a bit with the thoughts of a false future.
“Ok, I love you too, I’ll see you when I get home.” We both said bye and hung up. I walked back into my room, I had trailed off far away, by the time I was actually in the room, I was puking up everything I had eaten that day. Zoey, surprisingly had already packed his stuff, and I began to pack mine, as soon as I was done with the intense vomiting.
“It’s weird, it’s not like I feel bad all over and I throw up.”
“Ew shut up bitch I just had to hear your ass throw up.”
“It’s just like ‘Well time to throw up’” Zoey put both hands over his ears, then after a minute of me staring him down, he slowly let his arms fall to his side, as if still on alarm. I was still nauseous, so I let Zoey drive on the way home. Of course he sped the entire way but in the middle of now where we happened to get a flat tire. Zoey hit the dashboard hard.
“Woah there, Zoe, calm down.”
“Bitch do you know how to fix a flat tire?”
“Um no.” We both looked at each other then into the night sky.
“Find someone and take their stuff.”
“What do you mean?”
“Bitch I mean use your hippy dippy bullshit, so I can put the spare tire on, there has to be someone in this town who knows how to fix a tire.”
“Yeah but then I’ll know everything about that person, I don’t think you understand how much that sucks.”
“You’ve been doing that shit all your life, now put it to use.” He was right I unfortunately had to do something, and there was no way any auto place was open this late. I sighed, and then opened the door, immediately to throw up. Zoey made a screeching sound like a woman, and I wiped my mouth with my sleeve.
“I’m hungry.”
“You’re fucking sick.”
“Alright alright, you stay at the car, and I’ll go and find somewhere to get food.”
“And get some inside info on how to fix this fucking tire, no way am I letten a prego bitch out in the night like this. I’m coming with you.”
“Whatever fine, I’m just hungry.” And boy was I. I had an incredible hunger that I have never felt before. It was like I was addicted to food. I went to the first convenient store I could see in walking distance and dragged Zoey in. Zoey grabbed a cup of coffee. I grabbed two bags of chips, some soda, and a small thing of ice cream. As I was walking to the counter, I spotted a man checking out the small auto section. Fuck. I would have to touch him. He was tall with almost the same skin tone as mine. Like a caramel color, he had eyes that were dark and lashes that were much longer than most men, to say the least he was very attractive. He grabbed a thing of rope, and I strolled by him and dropped my ice cream on purpose, it rolled and hit his feet. He picked it up and looked at me. Something weird in his eyes kinda freaked me out, but I was pregnant and everything was freaking me out. So I reached out to grab my ice cream from him, making sure I touched him while doing so. The last thing I heard was his quiet voice saying “Here” and then all went black.

The Power of Taking

2010-02-06T11:02:00.000-08:00

We fucked for hours, then I took a shower at her house and got dressed. It was three in the morning, and I knew she wanted me to stay over, but I decided against it. I was having internal conflict with the whole situation. What I did felt amazing, but was I a lesbian? Certainly not. I mean I loved Ron, and still do love Ron a lot, but there was something about this girl that drew me to her, even before I touched her.
“I have to go, you have work in the morning right?” She smiled at me, she was still naked laying in her bed and I let my eyes wonder her body.
“Yes I do, but please stay, I’ll make it worth your while.” Yes she would. She would cook me breakfast and everything. She had it all planned out. I sat on the bottom part of her bed and put my shoes on.
“Look, Victory, I’m not a lesbian, you were right about that.” She rolled her eyes and looked away from me.
“But there is something about you. It’s just you I want. I’m not normally attracted to females, but you. Something about you.” She smiled and sat up.
“Then stay?”
“I can’t, but maybe another night.”
“You can’t drive anyway.” She was right, but I would take my chances. I needed to be alone. I needed to figure out what was going on in my head. I gave her a kiss and walked out the door.
“See you tomorrow?”
“I don’t work.” I said looking down.
“But call me.” I smiled at her then exited quickly. I didn’t know what had just happened or what was going on. I wasn’t gay or was I? No, surely I had not ever been attracted to women before, just her. I had her feelings override every bit of mine. For a moment I felt a certain kind of dirtness. Like I had done something wrong, but never the less what I had done felt amazing. I got into my car, and with one eye open I drove home.
When I pulled into the driveway, everything around me seemed oddly quiet. Like the city was my sleeping parents and I was creeping in after sneaking out. I walked inside my home, where there were still bags and boxes everywhere. Zoey was snoring loudly on his futon and didn’t move and inch as I quietly went to my room. I took off all my clothes and threw them to the floor. My hair was still wet and was sticking to my face. I tried to brush it away with no success. I curled up deep inside the covers and sleep came over me fast.
When I awoke, it was noon. “Fuck” I said to myself. It took a good ten minutes, for me to remember what happened the night before. I went to the living room, but Zoey was gone, off to work. I made myself some coffee, and sat on the couch with my laptop, searching the internet for mindless videos I could watch to direct my thinking away from Victory. It wasn’t happening. I had to see her again. I wanted to. I remembered my phone and ran to it, hoping she had called, but instead finding a text she had sent me late last night.
[drive home safe beautiful, hope to see you again soon.]
I smiled and held the phone close to my heart. I was getting butterflies in my stomach. The thought of us together made me extremely happy, it was a weird sensation, but I loved every bit of it. I text her back-
[Last night was amazing, I can’t wait to see you again. Have a good day at work.]
Immediately she text me back.
[tonight?]
No I couldn’t. It was too soon, and I was unsure about the whole thing. I needed to talk to Zoey about everything first and make sure what I was doing was right. I waited about an hour, thinking of what I should send, then finally I text her back-
[dinner plans tonight, but I’ll let you know when I’m free.]
Right away I got an OK with a smile face next to it. I wondered if it would be awkward at work. I wondered if she would do the same thing as last time. I had hoped she would. I waited patiently for Zoey to get off work, and when he came through the door, he seemed pissed and tired.
“I hate this fucking stupid ass job. Why are we doing this Yvonne?”
“Because we have to do something to pay rent.”
“We got money.”
“So what? It’s a job, everyone has to have one. Deal with it.” He went straight for the refrigerator and grabbed a beer, it was only five in the afternoon.
“I have something I need to talk to you about Zoey.” He looked at me funny then sat next to me, putting a beer on table for me to grab. At this point I didn’t care what kind it was. I opened it and took a sip.
“Zoey, do you think I’m a lesbian?” A burst of laughter came from him.
“Well why would I think that, when you were all up on my . . .” But I didn’t let him finish.
“Gross, Zoey, Fuck, don’t talk like that. I don’t want to know what we did. Friends remember, friends.”
“Well I don’t think you’re a lesbian, you would have made me tuck it in the back or something weird like that.”
“I had sex with Victory.”
“What???”
“I know.” I said putting my head down in shame.
“Bitch that’s crazy! I didn’t know that bitch was a dyke. Woah. Cool. Wait how do girls fuck?”
“Oh Zoey, let’s not get into detail please.”
“So you know her then huh? You know all about her, or did you take the pills.”
“I took them, but it wasn’t like last time, I know everything about her.”
“Damn that sucks.” Zoey was smiling so large I thought he would tear his lips. There was a moment of silence that made me feel that dirty feeling again.
“That means YOU are a dyke now too, huh?”
“I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking you.”
“You’re not, trust me” He looked down as if his penis was his most prized possession
“You’re definably not.”
“What do I do then?”
“Do you want to see her again?”
“Yeah, I do, badly so.”
“Bitch then hit and quit it. Let out that gay ass side. Can I watch?”
“NO! Zoey calm down.” He got up and shook his hips.
“You want to kiss my pussy?”
“Stop it.”
“Oh come on.” I went to my room with the beer in my hand and grabbed my phone. Zoey followed me but I shut the door.
“Invite her over.”
“No.”
“Just do it.”
“No” I screamed through the door.
“I already told her I had plans.” Zoey walked away. I called her anyway, and asked if she wanted to come over and meet my roommate tomorrow night. She eagerly agreed. The whole time I talked to her I was in a heavenly daze of smiles and laughter. I wanted her company so bad at times, but I would wait it out, after all she was the gay one, not me.
The next day I worked with her. We talked a lot on our smoke breaks about the job, and usual conversation. I knew everything about her, but I asked where she was from and what she was doing.
“I’m from Georgia, a tiny town. We didn’t even have a movie theater.” Or a mall, or anything. I knew it all but I loved talking to her. The way she would throw her head back when she laughed, or when she was excited she would use her hands to demonstrate what she was trying to say. It was cute, all of it was. That night she came over to the house. I had cleaned before and she seemed impressed with my style, but not so impressed with Zoey.
“This is Zoey, he is an asshole, don’t take anything he says personally.”
“Yeah, hey I know you from work, but I didn’t know you guys lived together.” She seemed disappointed and Zoey handed her a beer, she handed back.
“I brought some wine.”
“That’s cool bitch.” She looked at me.
“He calls everyone that, don’t be offended.” She smiled but in a sarcastic kind of way.
“I think it’s cute.” Zoey gave her a stare down, head to toe. A flood of jealousy came over me. They were sitting very close to each other. I sat in the chair after pouring Victory and I a glass of wine. When I sat, she jumped up and sat on my lap, without even asking. It was kind of cute.
“Can I have a tour of the house love?” And Zoey started giggling.
“You bitches do what ever you want, I’m watching the game, it’s finals you know?”
“No, I don’t know, but I do want to see your bedroom.” She said putting her finger on my nose lightly. I closed my eyes and smiled.
“Ok get up.” She sprung up and I showed her my room. In there, she shut the door and began to undress. Again????? When would this stop. I wanted to tell her that it was just a one night deal but I couldn’t resist. We fucked again and again, until we both fell asleep in my bed. The next morning we got ready for work, and everything seemed to feel normal, not weird or awkward, like I had expected it to be. Zoey banged on the door.
“You dykes wanna car pool to work?”
“Sure.” Victory said, speaking for the both of us.
That night she stayed over again. The sex we had was incredible. I never wanted it to stop. She always left me breathless, and extremely pleased. On the fourth night I went to her place, and after two rounds of somewhat intense, almost rough sex, she rolled over in the bed and stared into my eyes.
“Will you be my girlfriend?” She said softly. It was so soon, or was it? I had never been in a real relationship except with Ron, and that was totally different than this. He was different, almost every aspect of it was entirely new to me. I kissed her soft lips.
“Yes” I said not really knowing if I meant it. I didn’t even know if this was just her, or me and her. Whatever it was it felt good, so I supposed it could continue.
-
A week turned into a month, turned into two months. I had fun with Victory. It wasn’t like being with Ron, there was never any pressure to do anything. She would come over and hang out with Zoey and I for a second, then steal me away in the hallway or in the bathroom, where we would fuck. She would press her thin body on mine, and every time it felt as amazing as last. I never failed to orgasm, and she the same. We would go on late night trips to the sex stores, spending money on various toys for us to use. There were times however, where a ping of pain would harden my heart, and this was because of Ron. I still missed him. I still loved him. And being with Victory was amazing, but Ron still had my heart. I didn’t want to fuck anything up with Victory so I never spoke of him. We would stay up late talking about each other’s ambitions, though I knew hers. Sometimes, I would be reluctant to see her but the moment I touched her, all I wanted was to be hers forever. I felt her love for me, and it was intense, more intense than anything I had felt from another human being, even Clarence. Zoey was right, we didn’t need the jobs, so after a couple of weeks, we both quit and he started school, while I would have weekend get- aways with Victory. She never did believe that I could take people’s emotions and past. She just thought I was silly with my silk gloves and over protective walks through the casinos in Vegas. I always won enough to pay rent, and even though I had much more money than Victory, she would always buy me small things. In the beginning she gave me a necklace “It means ‘the all attractive one’” and then she kissed me. I wore that necklace most of the time, only taking it off when I had thoughts of Ron, and for some reason or another felt guilty about the relationship I had with Victory.
On my fifth trip to Vegas, I brought only Zoey, because Victory had to work. She had asked me to wait but I had to pay rent, and wanted some time alone, or really just without her. We were only to stay two day, and Zoey took the pleasure of bringing all my bags up to our two bedroom hotel room.
“Damn Yvonne, you’re getting fat.” I looked down, yes my tummy was a little big, but that was because I was suppose to start my period, and that always happens.
“Yeah I know Zoey, I’m about to start.”
“Start what?” I shook my head and walked to the bathroom, he followed.
“Start what bitch?” I shut the door on him
“Start my period.”
“Nas tay.” He said through the door.
“Come to think of it bitch, you ain’t had yours in a long time.” I finished peeing and got out of the bathroom, opening the doors to a hovering Zoey.
“How do you know that?”
“Because you haven’t been bitchen about it. All bitches bitch about it.”
“That’s true.”
“Haha you’re pregnant.”
“Don’t be silly, I’ve only slept with Victory.” Oh fuck, and Zoey.
“Zoey how long ago did you fuck me?”
“It’s been like three months I think. I thought we weren’t going to talk about that. Unless . . .”
“Yeah, Zoey you might be right!”
“Yvonne, you can’t keep taken them pills then. You gotta find out right now.” We both looked at the ground, like someone had died. Then Zoey put knelt down and put his head on my stomach.
“It’s ok, little mutant baby Zoey” I slapped him away.
“Stop! Fuck Zoey I thought you said you couldn’t come.”
“I don’t think I did, I mean I never can on those things.”
“But you don’t remember?”
“No, well not exactly, I mean I tried to keep up with you that night, so I took a lot too.”
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
“Zoey run and get me some fucking pregnancy tests.”
“You’re not pregnant, your fat Yvonne, I was just kidding.” He looked around and gave an awkward laugh.
“Please don’t be prego, that gross.”
“Just go and get me the fucking things, there is a drug store right outside of our hotel, GO!”
I had been feeling butterflies in my stomach, and was feeling them now. I hadn’t thought anything of it, but it started to make sense. My moodiness, my hunger, my crazy ups and downs when it came to Victory. Fuck I would have to tell her. I sat on the bed and looked at stomach, now all alone, just the baby and me. I poked my belly, and the thing moved. Again it felt like butterflies and nothing more. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. How could I have a baby? And how was it that I had tried with Ron and never succeeded and with Zoey it was just one go? How come all the times I was fucked at the brothel I never once got pregnant? Now here I am laying on my back on the bed wanting to get as far away from my stomach as possible. I grabbed my phone and called Victory.
“Hey what’s up sweetie? I’m at work.”
“Yeah can you step out for a second, I have some awful news.” Should I tell her before I take the pregnancy tests? I looked down again. I didn’t have to take them, I knew.
“Yeah hold on one second.” I held the phone close to my ear and curled up on the bed, as I listened to her tell her boss she would be out for a smoke.
“Ok how are you beautiful?”
“I’m pregnant.” And just like that I shot it out. There was no other way of doing it.
“So you cheated on me?” That’s the first thing that came to her mind! I couldn’t believe her.
“No, of course not. Don’t be so self involved. I had sex with Zoey before I even met you.”
“So you’ve been pregnant this whole time? Did you and Zoey have sex again?”
“No just that one time.”
“You didn’t have a relationship with him.”
“No, quit it Victory, he is just my friend.”
“Who you gladly fucked.”
“You’re not being a help.”
“I was wondering why you were getting fat.” How come no one told me this up until now?
“God damn it Victory, I just want some support.”
“Tell your fucking best friend to support you and your bastard child. You’re not going keep it right?”
“Forget it Victory, I’m going to take a nap, I’ll be back Saturday, if you want to see me Sunday, text me, but I don’t care either way.”
“Fine. If I don’t have to I won’t. Have fun with Zoey and the baby in Vegas.”
“Fuck you.”
“What?”
“You are suppose to be helping me, comforting me.”
“I have to go back inside, good bye Yvonne.” She hung up, and I through my phone across the room hearing it hit the wall but not smash. Fuck her, I thought she loved me. I knew she did, why was she being more compassionate? I wish she was here I would touch her, and cut her down with every insecurity she had! Zoey opened the door with his foot and walked in with two bags full of pregnancy tests. There must have been 30 of them.
“Good enough?” He said as he threw the bags on the other bed, in our room.
“Yep, Zoey I just got into a fight with Victory.”
“You guys never fight.”
“I know.”
“Why aren’t you crying.”
“Because I’m pissed, she was acting like this whole pregnancy thing was about her.”
“Well part of it is.”
“What do you mean?”
“Quarter of it, is me, quarter baby, quarter you, and quarter Victory. I mean you love her right?”
“I don’t know.” He shook his head, what little hair he had shook with it.
“Do you have to pee, I read all these things, you are going to have to pee like fifty times bitch.”
“You can’t keep calling me bitch if we have a child.”
“Bi-Yvonne you ain’t gonna keep it right?”
“I don’t know.” I did have to pee, I always had to pee latly, but Zoey bought a gallon of water just in case. I walked the bathroom, reluctantly holding the bag of pregnancy tests. After peeing in a cup and using the fifth pregnancy test, I decided I didn’t need the rest, it was true. I was pregnant.

The Power of Taking

2010-02-05T10:08:00.001-08:00

The Peak of the Fall
Driving in Los Angeles is akin to driving through a fast food restaurant, there is no time to speed or even hurry home in the slightest bit. You must stop then go then stop then go. The cars piled ahead of me, make a rainbow of colors that hurt my eyes. When I get to a red light an excitement fills my stomach as the cars ahead slowly move away. When the light turns green I’ll be able to slam on the accelerator and then unfortunately the brakes. I know Zoey now more than before. Little fragments of his feelings would pile up in the back of my head, and just like my speeding they would shoot out at any given moment during the day. Zoey was no exception. The drugs were the exception. I still couldn’t remember us actually having intercourse but the fact that we did made me nervous. It made him nervous too. I knew how bad he had felt when Red died, I knew he had missed his parents but they were somewhere far away, untouchable. Where? I had no idea. This drug he gave me, it would only allow certain things for me to keep stocked in the piles of people that make up me and my god damn library. I get home and open the door to a messy living room and Zoey drinking his normal tall can. He was in the same slacks as the day prior and a different but similar white t-shirt.
“Zoey, I need a beer. Import, not domestic”
“So you don’t know anything about me.”
“What?”
“I just want to make it clear, I been thinken all day about this shit and I just want to know what you know.” I sighed not wanting to get into the subject. Had I touched him without the drugs, I’m sure we couldn’t live together. I would know everything, every detail, all of his hopes and ambitions, and they would consume me momentarily into doing something dumb, then they would be stored in place in the back of my mind.
“I don’t want to act crazy but I want those drugs.”
“The bars?”
“Is that what they are called? Bars? Not a catchy name. How can I do those without getting too stupid?”
“There ain’t a way for that bitch, if so I’d be doing the damn shit for days. Here I’ll give you a couple though, if you need to take em, do it.” He extended his hand out to mine. I was still standing relatively close to the door. That’s when I noticed my work clothes and began to feel a certain kind of disappointment. It was Clarence’s.
“No, Zoey just put them on the table. We can never touch each other again.”
“You mean like fuck?”
“Zoey, why did you have sex with me?” Zoey looked around the room and kind of laughed to himself.
“You are funny as shit. You asked for it. I told you. You kept telling me to pretend to be Ron. Then you tried to hand me something but there was nothing there, and you told me to take it. Ha.” He laughed a little laugh of memories to himself, then put the pills on the table where I snatched them up. It was a bit dark in the room, but the pills seemed to glow.
“So you do know me then?”
“I know you don’t want to work until next Monday.”
“Fuck bitch, what are we gonna do?”
“It’s fine Zoey I can’t remember every detail, and it hasn’t taken over me. That’s what I like about this drug, it made me just have a small bit of something inside you I could look at. Nothing nearly as intense as when I touch people normally. I will never become you.”
“Wow that’s some deep ass shit. As long as you don’t start telling me my life story I’m cool.”
“Yeah, I don’t know it, so it’s fine.” Zoey went to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.
“We don’t have import.” I looked at my watch. It was kind of early, but I wanted to go out.
“I got Victory’s number today, do you feel like going out.”
“You mean hot bitch? You got her number? High five me!”
“Zoey, quit fucking around.”
“Na, they called me and want me to go work in the morning. I’m tired, but you should call her.” A way of nervousness came over me. From where? It must have been a combination of the men who would have been intimidated by her. I plopped myself on the couch next to Zoey.
“No, I would only go if you were going.”
“Don’t be stupid, just go, I know you don’t want to stay here with me and get drunk and watch football, that’s not your thing.”
“You’re right. Maybe I will call her.”
“You will.” And I did. I walked to the entrance of my room. I opened the door but didn’t go all the way inside. I just stood there staring at my phone with Victory’s name in it. I pressed talk, and put the phone lightly to my hear.
“Hello.” She sounded way more innocent on the phone then she did in real life.
“Victory?”
“Yeah, Yvonne what’s up” I was so afraid she would say no, I almost chickened out in asking her.
“I’m bored, um do you.” I was stumbling, I felt stupid. I shook my head a bit to clear my mind. I heard her give out a little laugh in the background. It was cute.
“Do you want to hang out or something?”
“Well I don’t feel like going to a bar, especially with you.” My stomach tightened.
“I mean the guys would hit on the both us like crazy, why don’t I just come over.” I looked around and my new house was a mess.
“Can I go to your place?”
“Yeah that works too. I’ll text you my address, what are you drinking?” She was going to buy me drinks!
“Anything import.”
“Ok. Give me about an hour.”
“Cool, see you then.”
I clicked the phone shut and laid back against the wall, holding the phone to chest. A friend. A real friend. Finally.
She lived downtown, so I got ready, wearing a stunning short but not too short light blue dress. Zoey was in the background screaming and yelling at the tv, like it was something real. I put on some light make up but nothing too fancy. It was a forty minute drive to her house, but this would give me time to relax, and let go of all those insecurities others had installed in me. It was hot outside, but not extremely so. I put on a pair of my silk gloves and light form fitting jacket, just in case. I looked at my watch. I was going to be late. I rushed to my car without saying bye to Zoey and headed towards Victory’s house in east L.A.
I had a hard time parking. The street she lived on was full to the max of cars coming and going, I had to fight for a parking spot two blocks from where she lived. Though it was a bit of a walk I felt elated to find a parking spot at all. I walked down the street with little apartments here and there. Some commercial property was in between, but nothing noticeably good. I pasted a liquor store, and that’s when it hit me. I should have brought something. Either wine, or beer, or food. Something to give in return. I detoured into the liquor store and looked around. All they had were cheap bottles of wine, and I couldn’t do that. Then I remembered something that Red had been drinking long ago. It was an energy drink and an alcoholic beverage with high percentage of alcohol. It was called Bounce. I liked the taste, it was smooth like cool aid, and got you drunk like vodka. It also kept you alert so you wouldn’t do anything stupid. I found a section where they had a million different flavors, but decided to go with the Jungle Bounce, which had a colorful outside appeal. I grabbed two tall cans and went to the register, where an old man checked my ID twice, it kinda felt good, but at the same time I was in a hurry. He handed them back to me, each in a brown paper bag, classy. I asked him to give me a plastic bag, and he did so without question. I paid and left feeling as if I had done the right thing, and headed to her apartment a few doors down.
She was on the third floor, but when I called she didn’t buzz me in. Instead she came downstairs to meet me and let me inside.
“Oh what’s that?” she was pointing to the bag I was carrying.
“It’s Bounce, this energy/alcohol drink. Have you had it before?”
“Nope.” She said as she opened the door to her apartment. I walked in and the place smelled nice. Everything in it was properly placed, and very organized and neat. I thought to myself, this is what it must be like to live alone. She lived in a studio, so she didn’t have a couch. No need for one, in my opinion, her bed served as a couch and her computer, the TV. I went into the kitchen and extracted the tall cans, she inspected them.
“Classy.” She said with a smile. She must have only been 24 or 25, not that much younger than myself. We both opened our cans and sat on her bed.
“Tell me something Yvonne, why are you dressed head to toe in clothes, I mean it must have been hard opening the can with gloves, and it’s not cold outside?” I wanted to tell her, something inside me told me to do so. I hadn’t told anyone but Zoey, why did this girl need to know? After all these years, would I just start telling people I meet? No.
“I can’t answer that.”
“Oh come on now. We work together, I’m sure we will spend a lot of time together. Do you have a skin disease or something? I won’t freak out, I promise. I think your beautiful.” I blushed. We were both taking big sips of our drink, my head started to spin a little, and I felt light. I tried to change the subject.
“Have you ever heard of bars?”
“Hell yeah I have. Do you have some?”
“Yes, but I’m not sure. I mean last time I took two and . . .”
“Woah, you took two? Let’s just split one.” And we did. Mixed with my drink it had almost the same affect. I felt great. We talked for hours, eventually I took my gloves off and kicked my shoes to the ground.
“There we go!” Victory shouted. She was much prettier without her make up on. All natural and in her PJ’s she looked radiant. I laughed. I felt I could say and do anything with this girl. The drugs were in full effect. I wanted to hug her, and tell her all the awful things that had happened to me.
“Ok I’ll tell you why . . .” I laughed. She wouldn’t believe me.
“Tell me” she said tickling my side.
“If I touch people I take on their emotions and history. It’s like I suck it right out of them.” She laughed and shook her head.
“You fucking liar.” She said playfully and laid back hard on her bed. I turned to her.
“You don’t believe me? I’ll touch you.” I warned in a silly way.
“I swear, and then I’ll know everything about you!” She sat up and got extremely close to my face, her green eyes seemed to penetrate my skin and get inside me. I smiled at the warm feeling I got.
“Do it.”
“Fine.”
“Well?” And I was too chicken shit to do anything but sit there and stare into her eyes, it was almost like she had me in a trance. All of a sudden , she closed her eyes and kissed me. She fucking kissed me, just a small soft peck, but it was something new I had never experienced before. I held her in place so she couldn’t pull back and let my hand move from her back to her neck. Then I kissed her again. She pulled away, laughing.
“What do you know about me?” I sat back for a second. There was no warm sensation. No burning like the rest. There wasn’t a shock or anything. Just a delicate flow of information, that gave me butterflies. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the drugs, or because she was a woman. She had invited me over to . . .
“You were going to kiss me anyway!” I laughed
“Whatever, you’re just saying that.”
“You’re bisexual, that’s for sure, but you have only been with two women.” She sipped her Bounce.
“Lucky guess.” I flipped through her pages in my head, feeling what she was feeling, and I pulled her close to me
“You are just as dirty as a man, I like it.” I wanted her now, just as badly as she wanted me, if not more so. She smiled revealing a set of perfect teeth, her lips were plump, but not too big, and complimented her smile.
“Am I?” she said in a seductive manner. She was! I mean the things she wanted to do to me, and I her, I just couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t hold back, I said yes softly, and kissed her again this time pulling her entire body onto mine. We seemed to fit together well. She searched my mouth with her soft tongue and held me tight, moving her hands all over my body. I couldn’t get over how soft every part of her was, it was nothing like being with a man. I wanted to do all kinds of things with her, but she pushed me off. She got up and stood at the bar in her kitchen, and looked at me with a smile, opening a bottle of beer.
“But you’re not a lesbian so what does it matter.” I looked down at my feet dangling off the bed. Slowly I got up and took off my jacket, then as I walked to her I took off my dress, revealing all of my clean shaved nude body, her eyes widened.
“I am now.” She pulled off her shirt, and revealed her breasts, a perfect size, I would say maybe a large B cup. I wanted her and she me. She walked to me and our bodies mashed together in the middle of her room. She began to kiss me on my mouth at first, then my neck and ear. I was searching her body with my hands pulling at her pajama pants, wanting them off of her. She guided my hand inside her underwear. There I knew what to do. Only because of her I knew exactly what she wanted, and I lusted for the same. We found ourselves on the floor, rolling around, while I was inside of her, feeling her soft insides, that became warmer and wetter the more I pushed and pulled with my fingers. She moved her body with the rhythm of my hand and found her way into me. We both moaned out in pleasure. This was far greater than anything I had ever felt. I wasn’t sure if was her feelings or mine, but either way it was damn good.

the Power of Taking

2010-01-31T13:49:00.001-08:00

I wanted to scream. I wanted his big Mexican head to blow up and spatter all over the kitchen. Why me? I closed my eyes, as Zoey said sorry over and over again. He explained to me that he never wanted to have sex with me, and that he wasn’t attracted to me.
“But not in a bad way, just like in a sister way. Not that I would fuck my sister. Yvonne I was just fucked up, and you wanted it. You thought I was Ron, and I thought you wanted to play some sexy game.”
“How come I can’t remember your feelings though. How come I can’t remember your background, your life?”
“Well I did give you drugs.” I opened my eyes and immediately and felt disgusting. I never ever wanted to sleep with Zoey.
“Maybe I’m like Ron?”
“No, how would I know the sugar part?” Zoey laid down and stared at the ceiling trying to think hard about what happened last night.
“Well if makes you feel better I don’t think I came.”
“Zoey!”
“What it was the drugs, they make it hard to.”
“Quit talking like that! Wait . . .” I had a clue. Maybe the drugs took away my power.
“Zoey the drugs make you forget things, maybe I didn’t take any of your emotions or history, maybe I just got bits and pieces because of the . . .” But Zoey cut me off.
“Yvonne!” I looked at him confused, pissed and just plain weirded out.
“You have to be at work in an hour bitch.”
“Shit.”
“Are you going to go?”
“Of course I’m going, why wouldn’t I?”
“Because you don’t have to, because you have money.”
“Please don’t tell me you have a thing for me, I’d rather not spend all day going over last night.”
“I don’t, I promise.” I believed him. It’s funny how I could remember coming out of my mothers vagina but I couldn’t remember a damn thing about last night. I sighed and went to take a shower, and get ready for work. What they had me wear was oversized and gross, but if I could look anything like that Victory girl it wouldn’t matter. I took a shower and put on my work clothes, then without saying good by I headed towards the mall for the first day at my new job.

I believe the dumbest people on earth are those who consume alcohol in mass quantities. The store I was working at had me watch a silly two hour video on sexual harassment and things like that, then I was thrown into the jungle, without a clue as to what I was doing. Victory, is who I would be “shadowing” for the next two weeks. Meaning I follow her around like a puppy and closely pay attention to every little thing she did. I didn’t mind at all. She smoked a lot so there where various parts of the day when I could just stand in the sun and talk to her about the job.
“It’s not hard.” Of course it wasn’t. It was by far the easiest thing I could possibly be doing.
“But I’d rather be acting. What do you want to do with your life?” No one had really asked me that before and I had no answer to her question. My ambitions had always been those of others. Someone eles’s dream. Clearnce’s dream. It was all him not me. When I kissed Patrick I knew that. When Ron left I knew that. When . . . Oh God I had sex with Zoey last night. Fuck. I changed the subject.
“Have you ever had sex with a friend by accident.” She laughed a little. It was cute, and I loved the way her hair flowed as she shook her head.
“You can’t accidentally have sex with anyone.”
“Yeah, but I don’t remember, I took pills.” She gave me a strange look.
“That’s called Rape.”
“No he took them too.”
“Oh so you’re not a lesbian?” What?! She thought I was gay.
“No.” I said softly feeling a bit confused. I didn’t know what I was. All my life I had just been a product of other people, but I’m guessing straight people.
“Oh” she whispered. “Me either.” There was an awkward silence, and we both looked up at the sun. It was bright and beautiful and had just shown itself through the clouds.
“Well not that I’m opposed to it or anything.” I said trying to make it not as awkward.
“Me either, and I mean you don’t look gay at all. You are so pretty. I wish I was as pretty as you.” I was surprised at the compliment. I blushed a little, or at least it felt as if I did. We went back inside, and all day I watched her answer stupid questions, and ring up disgusting men that would very impolitely hit on her.
“Do you mind?” I said as our shift was closing.
“Mind what?”
“That men hit on you so often.”
“Well I did at first, I mean the place we work at is kind of an alcoholics heaven, but I got use to it and it doesn’t bother me anymore. You’ll get the same shit when you start working on your own.” And she let out a radiant smile. In that moment I wanted to be her friend. I wanted to get to know her. I wanted to know everything about her. I was shy around her most of the time, but I grew the courage to ask for her number.
“I don’t really have that many friends.” She smiled again as I said it, almost as if I were lying.
“Just don’t give me pills, and we’ll call it deal.” She said it with such wonderful sarcasm I didn’t want to leave her. I wanted to take her home with me so she could meet Zoey. I didn’t want to get home and it be weird between the two of us, and maybe if this Victory girl came then it wouldn’t be, but it was too soon to ask her over. I figure I better play it safe. I bid her a good night and walked back to my car, ready to go home after a hard days labor and deal with Zoey.

The Power of Taking

2010-01-29T15:27:00.001-08:00

We where both dressed up and ready to go. I was impressed with the way Zoey had presented himself, but couldn’t tell if he did it to be fashionable or just as a cover up. He smiled and asked if I wanted a beer before we left. I declined gracefully, and watched him chug down a bottle of domestic beer. As we were walking to the car Zoey burped loudly.
“Zoey!”
“What?” He said, as if no one had ever corrected his bad manners in his life. I blew it off, excited that I may see Ron tonight and finally get the closure I deserved. We both hopped in the car and took off.
“You know he is probably there.”
“I know, if it were his choice he would be there everyday.”
“Zoey, I forgot to tell you I met a beautiful woman at BevSmart.”
“Nice tits? Big ass?” I swerved the car a little by accident.
“No, don’t talk about women like that, she was just beautiful, like her face, and her eyes. That kind of natural beauty.” Zoey played around with his cigarette pack.
“White.”
“What?”
“She was white, I don’t like white girls, those bitches are crazy.”
“I’ve never had a white friend, only known people though, well you know, and I guess you’re right.”
“Fucking.” I rolled my eyes.
“Yes fucking Zoey.”
“So tell me all those fucks who fucked you, you know all about them, like everything.”
“I don’t know exactly but I know a lot. It’s more emotional then it is just knowing someone from on the inside.”
“Weird.” He said as we pulled up the pub. Zoey hopped out of the car quickly and my heart began to beat fast. I couldn’t move. There in the parking lot was Ron’s truck. Zoey began tapping on my window so I rolled it down a bit.
“Turn off the car and lets go, I’m starving for another beer, and maybe some of those bad ass chips.”
“Zoey Ron’s here.”
“Then get the fuck out.” He was right, this was my chance, I didn’t want to sit there in parking lot, and watch my love drive away. I rolled up the window and got out, looking at myself in the review mirror to assure I was looking my best.
“Let’s go.” Zoey said with a dead tone. I turned and he had his hand out as if to hold mine, he was smiling like a five year old.
“Just kidding, but I’ll open the door for you my lady.” It wasn’t funny, I never wanted to touch Zoey. It would probably ruin my friendship with him forever. We walked inside, Zoey holding door open as promised, and took a seat at a booth. The place was crowded. My eyes desperately searched for a red headed Ron, but he was nowhere to be found. A waitress approached and Zoey ordered the same thing Ron usually ordered.
“And for you.” The waitress recognized me and smiled.
“Good to see you again.”
“I’ll take Jack, straight up, no ice, glass size.”
“Woah bitch.” Zoey said as the waitress drifted away
“If you need something to calm you down I have something.” Of course he always had something.
“Yeah Zoey I’ll take it. Whatever it is, as long as it isn’t that stuff you gave me last time.”
“Here.” And he handed me two bar shaped white pills.
“Do I take both of them?”
“If you want.” I did. Just then I spotted Ron. He was in the back corner getting up and walking towards us. I started to panic.
“Zoey, Ron’s walking over here.”
“Just relax bitch don’t do something dumb.” Ron didn’t spot me until he was almost at our table. He looked at me and his eyes widened, big, green, beautiful. He was just going to pass our table and exit the pub and I grabbed his hand.
“Don’t do this to me.” He looked down, his hair had grown out, and he seemed to be the Ron I had first met, the Ron I had first fallen for.
“Don’t fucking touch me Yvonne. I don’t care anymore.” His eyes were cold as he snatched his hand away from me. In two seconds he was gone, out the door and I could hear him revving his engine outside and taking off. My heart sunk. I began to cry and cry. Why couldn’t I take his emotions like everyone else. In that second I wanted the power to feel what he felt, so that I could have a better understanding. I wished I would have run out, but something was keeping me seated, something was wearing on my mind.
“Yvonne?” and the voice of Zoey was fading slowly as the bar began to disappear.
-
I woke up in my bedroom with my dress pulled up to my breasts. Had that all been a dream? I didn’t quite know what was going on. It took me a couple of minutes to realize where I was at and what had happened. Immediately I jumped out of bed and ran to living room where Zoey was sleeping. The sun peaked itself from the curtains and pierced my eyes with great force. I shut them, and decided to make coffee for Zoey and I, then wake him up for some sort of explanation of what happened to me. My feet were bare and the floor felt disgusting. Everything felt that way. I made my cup of coffee with sugar and cream, and Zoey’s black with a drop of sugar in it. I threw an empty beer can at Zoey to wake him up.
“What the fuck bitch?”
“What happened last night?” Zoey rubbed his eyes, and pulled up his boxers. Then got out of bed and yawned.
“You where trashed, oh man.”
“What happened with Ron?”
“Nothing he never came back.”
“Fuck” I said sitting down on the couch next to Zoey. I handed him his coffee. Zoey lit a cigarette and laughed a bit to himself.
“You were saying all kinds of crazy shit man it was funny.”
“Like what?”
“You wanted me to get you black cheesecake, and you wanted to take more and more pills. You wouldn’t stop asking. I had to put you to sleep, but don’t worry I just gave you a little kick.” Zoey sipped his coffee, and a mess of confusion fell upon my brain. I wanted to bust out in tears. I had seen Ron, I had wanted him. I had needed him back in my life. When I looked at Zoey he stared at the coffee cup then gave me a serious almost mean look.
“DID YOU FUCKING TOUCH ME?” He screamed it. It scared me so much I jumped off the couch and ran to the kitchen.
“I don’t know Zoey, I don’t think so calm down.”
“Did you fucking touch me bitch? Tell me now? You know everything don’t you. You fucking cunt.”
“Zoey I don’t know anything about you. I don’t know what you’re talking about calm down please.” Zoey pulled out his knife and came all too close to me.
“I like a drop of sugar in my coffee, you don’t know that. I don’t want you knowen everything. Did you fucking touch me? Tell me the god damn truth.” I backed away and began to cry. Zoey sighed and put the knife down.
“I won’t hate you if you did, I just don’t want you knowen everything, I have anger issues. I just need to know.”
“I honestly don’t remember. I just made coffee this morning and . . .” I couldn’t find the right words. Did I touch him? If so how come I couldn’t remember him in library in my head. I had no idea as to what he had gone through, besides what he had told me.
“No Zoey I couldn’t possibly have touched you. I don’t know what has happened to you. I really don’t. Maybe I just picked up on it.” Zoey put his head down and slowly walked back to the couch. His body was sluggish.
“Fuck, I remember now.” He had frightened me. I was scared to even move, and he picked up on that.
“It’s cool Yvonne. I took some pills too, I remember now.”
“Remember what?”
“We had sex.” A lump in my throat felt as if it were going to burst. I threw my coffee cup in the sink and shattered. Zoey sat with his head down.
“Sorry”
I ran to my room and locked the door. How could this happen. I didn’t know Zoey. I didn’t know anything about him. What the fuck was going on?

The Power of Taking

2010-01-28T16:28:00.001-08:00

Happy Mornings
I woke up feeling refreshed. The first thing I did was pick up my phone. I had a text from Zoey. “Make Coffee” Of course he would text me something like that at seven in the morning. I slipped into my white fluffy robe and walked, bare foot, into the kitchen. Zoey was already sitting at our kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee. I admired him for a moment before walking in. Zoey had so much potential in his life, he was so full of energy. I wish I had that quality in myself, but here I was another day waiting for Ron to come to me. I sat at the table. I began to fix myself a cup of coffee.
“Morning. I guess you didn’t get my text.”
“I did. I was asleep.” I turned sharply almost exposing myself. I blushed, just a little.
“Zoey let’s find jobs today.”
“What?”
“Yeah like real, labor jobs. Like normal people. I mean we can’t just sit around for ever.”
“Your right but I was thinking about a plan to get Ron back.” My heart sunk. Fuck getting jobs.
“What’s the plan?”
“Well, I’m all dressed up, and if you didn’t notice my hair is back.” I looked at him. He was right I didn’t notice, but his bald head had some specks of brown covering it. He must have just begun this.
“So?”
“Ok we look for jobs, but I look different now thanks to your bitch ass, and that means I can go back to that bar you met me at.”
“That would be terribly hard for me Zoey, I mean what if Ron isn’t there.”
“Then at least you can confront yourself bitch. Get the fuck over it.” Yesterday’s conversation about the term “Bitch” apparently hadn’t made it’s mark. I sighed, and noticed the new clothing on Zoey. It did make him look a hell of a lot different. I would say better, he would say fag, but that wasn’t the point.
“Ok, as long as we go look for jobs.”
“Well I’m already dressed and your damn naked.” I looked down noticing my disgusting bare feet.
“I’ll shower and get ready, it will probably take me about an hour. How about you look online for places for us to go and print out your resume.”
“I don’t have a resume.”
“Make one.” With the resume I had, I could work just about anywhere, though it was all fake. Zoey could do the same for himself, and I told him this.
“It’s not important what we do, just doing something will help.”
“Fine.” He reluctantly grabbed my laptop and I stubbed my toe on the kitchen table, then wobbled into my room to take a shower.
When I got out I looked at Zoey’s resume. Half a page, but at this point I didn’t care. Zoey hadn’t found anything on the internet that caught my eye, or seemed feasible what so ever. I shook my head as Zoey explained to me how he would make a perfect chef, then microwaved some popcorn for lunch. I was wearing a business casual suit, and he the same. I decided it would be best if we got retail jobs, though when I pulled up to the outdoor mall, Zoey refused to get out.
“NO!”
“YES!”
“NO!”
“We had a deal, come on. It won’t hurt and it will give us both something to do.
Zoey finally got out of the car, but we parted ways fast, only to end up at the same place. DrinkSmart. A giant liquor grocery store. It was the only place hiring, and we both got an interview on the spot. Zoey went in first and took forever. I went from isle to isle searching for nothing in particular, but trying to buy time. When I turned the corner of isle 11 I almost ran into a woman about my size, but a little taller. I looked up. She was beautiful, more so than I. She stood with a strong posture, she was white, with green cat eyes, and had all the right curves. Here hair waved slowly down her shoulders and was a dirty blonde combination I knew was natural. I was tongue-tied and didn’t know what to say. I put my head down.
“Did you need help with anything?” I looked back up at her, she had a fascinating smile that made want the conversation to not end.
“Yes well um no.” She laughed, it was adorable.
“I’m applying here.” I watched her beautiful face, and her eyes drift to meet mine.
“It would be nice working with a woman ya know. I hope you get the job. You probably will, John is such a pervert.” She was implying I was pretty, and I blushed. In the distance I heard Zoey call my name. I smiled at the woman whose name tag read “Victory”
“Good luck Yvonne” She said as I was walking away. I turned slightly and looked back.
“Thanks Victory.”
She was right I did get the job. The very next day I was scheduled to work. Zoey got hired too, only as part time, but he didn’t want it anyway. He said he was doing it for me on our drive home. I smiled at the thought. When we got back I changed into the sexiest outfit I had. A smooth black dress, that was not too short nor too long and we went out to find my Ronniebear.

The Power of Taking

2010-01-25T11:36:00.001-08:00

Shopping
When we enter the mall, Zoey was screaming like a child.
“I would never do this to you, let’s go downtown. Please bitch please.” I ignored him, I figured from now on I would not respond to him calling me bitch, though it was his favorite nick name for me. I got out of car, and watched as Zoey crossed his arms and stayed in his seat. What a five year old. I knocked on the window and he rolled it down maybe an inch. I turned my head sideways.
“It will help you Zoey.”
“No it won’t, you’re gonna dress me up like some fucken pretty boy fag.”
“I won’t I swear.”
“Bullshit bitch.”
“Quit calling me that, it’s degrading.” He looked away as if he never thought of it before. Then he opened the car door.
“Promise you won’t dress me like a fag Yvonne.”
“I promise Zoey.” I took him to all the nice stores I could find, at first he was reluctant to even try clothes on, but eventually we came to a compromise in clothing. I found him a couple pairs of black and gray slacks, some leather Italian shoes, and three different styles of grey striped blazers. The t-shirts I got him were a large though a medium would have fit better, he wouldn’t let that one go, and I figured I could just make him tuck them in. When it came to more casual wear, I didn’t let him get shorts or pants that would go down past his ankles, I managed to get him to oblige to some trendy jeans that hung just right off of his hips. We were both pleased. All of which I paid for. I didn’t mind, I wanted my Zoey to look the best.
When we got back to the apartment everything was gone, from the silverware to the bed. The whole house had seemed to be cleaned out, and a stack of cash laid on my counter. Zoey counted it. 120000. His eye’s lit up.
“Damn I didn’t think she would pay that much.”
“Well I’m glad she did. But we have to find an apartment.” The apartment was under my name at first then later we had switched it to Ron’s because he was constantly telling me that he did not feel like part of the house. Leaving would be easy, that would be on Ron, and for a second I felt good that he would have that trouble. Any trouble to him at this point made me feel better. Zoey and I drove around Hollywood in search of an apartment, but nothing was furnished, and nothing cheap, or rather cheap in Zoey’s eyes. We took a drove to Valley, where in Sherman Oak’s after looking at 8 apartments and calling twenty, we found a one bedroom suitable for us.
“I get the bedroom Zoey, you can make the living room into your own place.” Zoey nodded.
“So how much do you want me to contribute?” I looked at him, wearing his new clothes, some with the tags on it. My heart melted, not in sexual way, but in a way that maybe a mother loves her son.
“You only have to pay a quarter of the rent I guess.” That night we went to a department store, and shopped as new couples do, for cups and plates, blankets and towels. It felt nice, like a new world was about to take over.
“But what about your green card?”
“Well if Ron wants to divorce me it’s easy all he has to do is send a letter in the mail, I’m almost there already if he waits six months, we can divorce and I can still have my greencard. I changed my address with the Postal service online, so he knows how to reach me.” Boy did he. In so many different ways. I had emailed him everything. He knew my phone number and new address. It had been a long day and snapped my laptop shut, the apple still glowing on and off. I put it aside and looked at my watch. It was nearly midnight, and Zoey was watching Tv and sipping on a beer. It hit me that I may be taking up his space. I bid him good night, then went to my new room. For the first time I didn’t cry myself to sleep. I just laid there staring at the ceiling. Tomorrow I would find a job, a nothing job, a job that I didn’t have to invest in. I would stay away from law. Anything that would remind me of Ron had to be gone. Maybe if I just spent a small time working I could figure myself out. Find out what I wanted, instead of what others wanted. After all, the emotions I had for Ron were my own, and that verified that I was a real person, and could find myself.

The Power of Taking

2010-01-24T14:17:00.001-08:00

Your Dead Body is Still Breathing
I wake with a splitting headache. One I thought would liquefy my brain and drain out my ears. Zoey is still asleep on the kitchen floor. I look over at him. His shirt is off, but his pants still on. What happened? There were bits and pieces of candy land all over the floor. The game that Ron had got me, because I was “sweeter than candy” I tried to stand and failed at first, slamming back onto the hard floor. As I did, it hit me, I had taken drugs. I scanned my brain for the emotions of Zoey. The last thing I wanted was for him to have touched me last night. As I stood the second time I felt wobbly and had to grab hold of the counter to keep my balance. Automatically I started the coffee pot. Where was Ron? For some reason, I had thought he would be in the house. Slowly I walked from room to room, but he was nowhere to be found. It was all a simple delusion, brought on by the pill I had taken the night before. My stomach clamped up and started making weird noises. I should eat, but I felt no hunger of any sort. The sorrow that had filled me the day before, or was it two days before, had come back tenfold. I had the urge to sleep more, to make this horrible feeling go away, but as I went to lay in my bed, my eyes wouldn’t shut. For about an hour I tried to force sleep to come, but with no success. Finally I got up and grabbed a cup of coffee. I sat at my computer and wrote Ron an email, maybe he would respond to it.
Ron,
I don’t hate you for leaving me. If fact quite the opposite. I got caught up in this fantasy delusional world were everything would be ok if I just told you the truth. That I love you. That I’m in love with you. I don’t know what you saw or what happened to make you disappear as you did but I want to honest about everything, I just need you to contact me. Please please please. I will explain it all. I can’t stop thinking about you and what I did wrong. I don’t think you understand how much I care for you. I thought you loved me. I thought you really did love me. But I sit and make a list of the actions that take place and I find myself a fool. I bought you things, I gave you all of me. I am writing you this email even though you don’t bother to communicate with me. Why Ron? The truth is I cry and cry and cry, in front of Zoey, in front of everyone. I was wrong. I did kiss a man, but I can explain it all if you give me the chance. I don’t want you out of my life, that is the last thing I want. I love you so very much I’m sure you can not comprehend. I want to be with you every second of everyday, but yes I am wrong. Yes I did kiss a man. But he meant nothing, and I am never talking to him again. You see, I was only attracted to him because he was attracted to me, as soon as I kissed him, I knew I was wrong, dirty and a horrible wife. Come back Ron. Please. I can’t stand life without you. The truth is I can’t get over you. Right now it is killing me to know you don’t even give a fuck about how I feel. Obviously otherwise you would communicate with me in some way. What I am looking for really is closure. I need it badly just to spill it out. To get out all those fantasy “what if’s” That plague my mind. I want to stay your friend if I can’t have you back. I need you in my life. Have you found another? Have you forgotten what we had? Am I someone’s sheep? A new woman? Only to follow in the footsteps desperately seeking you like a pathetic loser? The easiest way for me not to hurt is to not expect anything from you. No calls. No texts. No hanging out. No emails. No friendship. But I tune you out. I can’t live without you. Do you understand that? Do you even give a shit? I have already left you many voicemails explaining things, and still you refuse to contact me. I’m dying without you. I think if I wait a while I can get over it all, maybe down the line we can reconnect. All I wanted was to be someone who YOU wanted to comfort you. To give you love. To give you everything you need and want. I can be that person Ron. I am still that person, and will continue to be loyal to you, until your return.
Love always,
Yvonne
I tapped my fingers on my black desk, wondering if I should send it. This would be the fifth email, but to a different address. I did feel pathetic, but I hit send anyway. Maybe he would contact me. It had been almost a week, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I didn’t want to stay at the apartment anymore. Everything in this apartment reminded me of Ron, and as it did tears would surely follow. This was real love. How come I didn’t see it before? Why couldn’t I just resist the kiss? Why couldn’t it have happened at work? I had no feelings for Patrick, if only Ron knew that. My body felt as if it were dying from the inside out. I hit send and slowly made my way to the kitchen where I kicked Zoey. He awoke with a frown.
“Aw fuck Yvonne.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out two white pills then stuck them in his mouth and swallowed without water.
“You’re not taking that shit again?”
“No these are Vikes?”
“What?”
“Hydrocodone, here take two you will feel better.” I was hesitant, I didn’t want to feel like shit again, but I trusted Zoey. Last night he told me I wouldn’t feel sad, and for a short period of time I didn’t. It was as if last night was my one free night to actually feel love and happiness. I popped both pills in my mouth and swallowed with some coffee almost choking.
“Give it about 20 mins.” Zoey said as he stood and poured himself some coffee. We both sat at the kitchen table not talking, and sipping our coffee. After a while the Vikes had kicked in and my body felt much better. I decided to end the silence.
“I’m going to take a shower.”
“Yeah bitch I ain’t smellen so good myself.”
“I have two bathrooms, you can use the guest one.”
“cool shit.” He got up to go and shower.
“Hey Zoey.” He turned around, his eyes were baggy and face looked worn.
“You don’t have a place to stay right?” He nodded but then looked down in grief.
“Let’s go to Vegas, I just need to get out of here.”
“What about your job?”
“I quit, and you don’t have one either. We can take my car.”
“Ok, but bitch I got a little bit of shit to do first.”
“Like what?” He glanced outside.
“Unless you want to be on the black list with the feds, I gotta get rid of my ride.”
“Ok but let’s leave tonight.” He flipped open his phone and started to dial numbers.
“Ok, fine. And Yvonne, last night was just a drug thing. Nothing personal.”
“So you didn’t touch me.”
“I don’t remember, but I don’t think I did.”
“Ok, well I think we are good.” But he wasn’t listening to me he was on the phone, selling his car for a measly 500 bucks. I sighed, sipped my coffee, and then headed for the bedroom.
I couldn’t sleep, I was tossing and turning and had the incrediable desire to clean. I wondered if it were the drugs. My feelings for Ron had amplified, and I began to cry against my pillow, or was it Ron’s pillow. I couldn’t stay here I needed to leave. I needed to get out of my house. I jumped out of bed and dressed myself without showering. I walked in the kitchen were Zoey had prepared himself a sandwhich.
“Mornen” He said with his mouth full of food.
“Yeah, listen I can’t stay here any longer.” He put down his sandwich and gave me a serious look.
“I’ve been thinking.” He paused rubbing his bald head.
“I don’t think it’s good for us to go Vegas, we don’t need money, and we aren’t just gonna find Ron like that. He won’t be there, and I know that’s why you want to go.” I sighed, he was right, in the back of my mind I had thought he would be there at the slot machienes waiting for me. He was probably off with some other girl already. He was probably happy. I needed to try and let go.
“Then we leave everything here.” Zoey cocked his head to side.
“what do you mean? Bitch I need some clothes”
“Ron left some. But please let’s just go buy new ones. I mean I want to leave everything in the apartment and leave. I don’t even want this car. I need to get Ron out of my mind, out of my life.” Zoey nodded
“Well I can take care of the car, but this shit in this apartment, none of them fuckers I know will take it. Maybe you know. . .” I sighed not wanting Zoey to sell my car for a measly 500 dollars.
“I know what to do, there’s this bitch she works at this second hand place.”
“Zoey!”
“No bitch listen. She works at a second hand shop on Melrose! She’ll pick up all this shit. I mean do you want to get rid of everything everything?”
“Yes even if I have to leave it.”
“Na you can make at least 5 G’s with the shit you got in here.” Five thousand was less than my couch, but more then I would get if I tried to do it myself.
“Ok call her up.”
“You splitten it with me?” I nodded, I didn’t care, I had plenty of money. Zoey picked up the phone and talked to someone named Victory. After a second he snapped his phone shut and smiled wide.
“She will be here at five.”
“Good, now get in the car, we are going to get a new one.” Zoey rolled his eyes.
“Really? Now? I feel weird.”
“Yes, Zoey if you want we can go get you clothes first.”
“Na bitch is going pick up tha car too, we need to get a ride first.”
Zoey was shirtless but put on a white stained shirt with some worn out tennis shoes. It seemed to take him forever to get ready. Finally we both hopped into the car, and went to the Hollywood car dealership. I got out, looking elegant and bright, I could tell by the way the sales man approached me, though he looked at Zoey, as if he were about to rape me, and me as if I were his fantasy dream woman. His face was worn with wrinkles that edged his eyes. His hair was obviously dyed black, and slicked all the way back. He had somewhat of a gut that hung over his belt as he pulled up his pants. When he smiled at us he revealed a pair of yellow stained teeth, I wondered why anyone would hire this cheese ball, then again we were in Hollywood.
“Hi, Folks Welcome to Hollywood Dealer Expess.”
“Yes, no need for formalities, I just need a car, I’ll pay you debit.” Immediately this man, Brawny, smiled wide and asked what kind of vehical I was interested in. Zoey was busy looking at every car.
“Oh I don’t know Mercades?” Zoey jumped, and stared me down.
“NO Yvonne.” He was using my real name that meant it was serious.
“BMW?”
“Yvonne come on now, lets just get a shitty Honda and call it a day.”
The sales man was set back by how fast we were discussing the purchase, he didn’t say a word and just stared at us. We must have been an odd looking couple. He was dirty and covered in tattoos, were I was more dressed business casual.
“Ok whatever, we will get that one.” I pointed to a silver Honda and the sales man gracefully nodded and started the paper work. The sale itself didn’t take that long, and before you knew it Zoey and I were on our way home. Zoey parked my car, well the car Ron gave me on the street, he put the keys on top of the left tire.
“She will clean you out in about an hour, the cash will be on the counter, I need your house keys.” I dug in my purse and handed him the key, he put it with my keys, and we both jumped in the new car. It smelt great, like freedom was slowly coming back to me, and with Zoey at my side, I felt much better than I had in weeks. I didn’t tell him, but as we drove away I planned to take him to the Beverly Hills Mall and get him all fixed up and dressed nicely.

The Power of Taking

2010-01-20T11:36:00.000-08:00

Your Dead Body's Still Breathing
I wake with a splitting headache. One I thought would liquefy my brain and drain out my ears. Zoey is still asleep on the kitchen floor. I look over at him. His shirt is off, but his pants still on. What happened? There were bits and pieces of candy land all over the floor. The game that Ron had got me, because I was “sweeter than candy” I tried to stand and failed at first, slamming back onto the hard floor. As I did, it hit me, I had taken drugs. I scanned my brain for the emotions of Zoey. The last thing I wanted was for him to have touched me last night. As I stood the second time I felt wobbly and had to grab hold of the counter to keep my balance. Automatically I started the coffee pot. Where was Ron? For some reason, I had thought he would be in the house. Slowly I walked from room to room, but he was nowhere to be found. It was all a simple delusion, brought on by the pill I had taken the night before. My stomach clamped up and started making weird noises. I should eat, but I felt no hunger of any sort. The sorrow that had filled me the day before, or was it two days before, had come back tenfold. I had the urge to sleep more, to make this horrible feeling go away, but as I went to lay in my bed, my eyes wouldn’t shut. For about an hour I tried to force sleep to come, but with no success. Finally I got up and grabbed a cup of coffee. I sat at my computer and wrote Ron an email, maybe he would respond to it.
Ron,
I don’t hate you for leaving me. If fact quite the opposite. I got caught up in this fantasy delusional world were everything would be ok if I just told you the truth. That I love you. That I’m in love with you. I don’t know what you saw or what happened to make you disappear as you did but I want to honest about everything, I just need you to contact me. Please please please. I will explain it all. I can’t stop thinking about you and what I did wrong. I don’t think you understand how much I care for you. I thought you loved me. I thought you really did love me. But I sit and make a list of the actions that take place and I find myself a fool. I bought you things, I gave you all of me. I am writing you this email even though you don’t bother to communicate with me. Why Ron? The truth is I cry and cry and cry, in front of Zoey, in front of everyone. I was wrong. I did kiss a man, but I can explain it all if you give me the chance. I don’t want you out of my life, that is the last thing I want. I love you so very much I’m sure you can not comprehend. I want to be with you every second of everyday, but yes I am wrong. Yes I did kiss a man. But he meant nothing, and I am never talking to him again. You see, I was only attracted to him because he was attracted to me, as soon as I kissed him, I knew I was wrong, dirty and a horrible wife. Come back Ron. Please. I can’t stand life without you. The truth is I can’t get over you. Right now it is killing me to know you don’t even give a fuck about how I feel. Obviously otherwise you would communicate with me in some way. What I am looking for really is closure. I need it badly just to spill it out. To get out all those fantasy “what if’s” That plague my mind. I want to stay your friend if I can’t have you back. I need you in my life. Have you found another? Have you forgotten what we had? Am I someone’s sheep? A new woman? Only to follow in the footsteps desperately seeking you like a pathetic loser? The easiest way for me not to hurt is to not expect anything from you. No calls. No texts. No hanging out. No emails. No friendship. But I tune you out. I can’t live without you. Do you understand that? Do you even give a shit? I have already left you many voicemails explaining things, and still you refuse to contact me. I’m dying without you. I think if I wait a while I can get over it all, maybe down the line we can reconnect. All I wanted was to be someone who YOU wanted to comfort you. To give you love. To give you everything you need and want. I can be that person Ron. I am still that person, and will continue to be loyal to you, until your return.
Love always,
Yvonne
I tapped my fingers on my black desk, wondering if I should send it. This would be the fifth email, but to a different address. I did feel pathetic, but I hit send anyway. Maybe he would contact me. It had been almost a week, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I didn’t want to stay at the apartment anymore. Everything in this apartment reminded me of Ron, and as it did tears would surely follow. This was real love. How come I didn’t see it before? Why couldn’t I just resist the kiss? Why couldn’t it have happened at work? I had no feelings for Patrick, if only Ron knew that. My body felt as if it were dying from the inside out. I hit send and slowly made my way to the kitchen where I kicked Zoey. He awoke with a frown.
“Aw fuck Yvonne.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out two white pills then stuck them in his mouth and swallowed without water.
“You’re not taking that shit again?”
“No these are Vikes?”
“What?”
“Hydrocodone, here take two you will feel better.” I was hesitant, I didn’t want to feel like shit again, but I trusted Zoey. Last night he told me I wouldn’t feel sad, and for a short period of time I didn’t. It was as if last night was my one free night to actually feel love and happiness. I popped both pills in my mouth and swallowed with some coffee almost choking.
“Give it about 20 mins.” Zoey said as he stood and poured himself some coffee. We both sat at the kitchen table not talking, and sipping our coffee. After a while the Vikes had kicked in and my body felt much better. I decided to end the silence.
“I’m going to take a shower.”
“Yeah bitch I ain’t smellen so good myself.”
“I have two bathrooms, you can use the guest one.”
“cool shit.” He got up to go and shower.
“Hey Zoey.” He turned around, his eyes were baggy and face looked worn.
“You don’t have a place to stay right?” He nodded but then looked down in grief.
“Let’s go to Vegas, I just need to get out of here.”
“What about your job?”
“I quit, and you don’t have one either. We can take my car.”
“Ok, but bitch I got a little bit of shit to do first.”
“Like what?” He glanced outside.
“Unless you want to be on the black list with the feds, I gotta get rid of my ride.”
“Ok but lets leave tonight.” He flipped open his phone and started to dial numbers.
“Ok, fine. And Yvonne, last night was just a drug thing. Nothing personal.”
“So you didn’t touch me.”
“I don’t remember, but I don’t think I did.”
“Ok, well I think we are good.” But he wasn’t listening to me he was on the phone, selling his car for a measly 500 bucks. I sighed, sipped my coffee, then headed for the bedroom.

The Power of Taking

2010-01-18T13:19:00.001-08:00

As The Rocks Roll Part 2
The light bent left before it penetrated my eyes. I’d say it was about a foot away before it decided to turn left. I followed it’s trail but it only led me to an old picture of Ron and I. The pill I took was so tiny, yet it’s impact was intense. Before I swallowed it, I stared at it in my hand, smaller then the tiniest button with an imprint of a smile. “The feel better pill” Zoey had said to me. At this moment Zoey had his eyes fixed on me. I didn’t mind, maybe he saw something I did not. All my sorrows had floated away, and gradually I was full of love for Zoey, and for this moment. All in an hour. How was this possible? My mind was flipping back and forth between Zoey and Ron. The light guiding meto get up and take a good look at the picture. Ron’s green eyes were smiling with hope. I on the other hand had a sort of fake happy smile. We weren’t even touching eachother. It was our wedding photo, and the more I looked the more I became the evil one in the picture. The background had turned bright orange and red. I wasn’t scared just curious. I took the picture down and sat on the couch, all the while Zoey’s eyes followed me. I held up the picture, blocking his view of me.
“The light pointed this way. To this picture. I’m not in love with you Zoey, are you in love with me. You know I love Ron.”
“No, Yvonne, the light pointed to you. I love you, I do, but I don’t want sex.” His face sunk in a bit.
“I know you don’t. Lights don’t point Zoey.” I sat down the picture. Do they though? What was I seeing? I let myself relax. I wanted logic to kick in. Where was I? Why was Zoey here? What happened to Patrick?
“Did he die?” But Zoey wasn’t in the room anymore. He had disappeared. Maybe this whole thing was a dream. A different kind of dream. I awaited someone’s return. Someone to come and rescue me from the silence and stillness of my apartment. It seemed to take hours, but Zoey walked in and gave me a glass full of orange juice.
“Zoey did he die?” Zoey didn’t sit, instead he stood at the end of the couch towering over me. He seemed much taller now, taller then Ron, than Patrick.
“Yeah Red died.”
“No not Red. It was someone else.” Who else? What was I talking about? Why was I talking about death? Then it hit me. My body felt like one giant orgasm had taken over my being and I looked at the picture.
“Zoey I love you, but I love Ron. Zoey where is Ron?”
“We don’t know Yvonne. I love you too. You’re my best friend.”
He went to hold my hand but I pulled away.
“No touching . . . You . . . Zoey” And I started to shake. “My only friend.”
Zoey smiled wide and I returned his smile. I took a sip of the orange juice and closed my eyes. It was as if a field of fresh oranges had slid down my throat and were now running through my veins. I could smell the fresh air, the trees, even the workers picking each plump orange. Sunlight rained my skin and Ron was here.
“Zoey, Ron’s here.”
“Nope.” Zoey was still hovering above me. He looked like a statue, his body made of small pebbles or granite, I couldn’t tell. For a moment I couldn’t even tell if it was the real Zoey. Then the warmness engulfed my body again. It was Zoey, beautiful, beautiful Zoey.
“Zoey I have money.”
“Yeah me too.”
“Do you think it will help me find Ron?” Zoey looked at the picture I had laid on the table. He picked it up and walked back to the chair where he sat previously. His motions were fast, quicker than I had seen him move before, but as he sat he slowed down, so much that I had to look away. Was time steadily dieing? When I went to take a sip of my orange juice my hand moved just as slow. My mind went blank and I closed my eyes. As Zoey spoke it echoed through my head.
“Ron is right here. He is in my hands. I can see him. He is mad at you. He hates you Yvonne. Why did you hurt him?” I opened my eyes, small objects became amplified with color and texture. I looked at Zoey who was staring at the picture, his left index finger on Ron’s smiling face.
“I’ll help you find him. We can find him together, but he hates you.” He began to cry and I didn’t understand.
“Zoey did he see me with Patrick, or did Patrick see me with him?” Zoey just nodded respectfully.
“Still . . .” My words were lost again. “He loves me, I mean Ron?”
“Yes Yvonne, he did.”
“Let’s find him Zoey! Let’s GO!” He flinched as my voice rose.
“I can’t my feet are stuck to the ground.”
“How bad?”
“How bad what?” I started to giggle.
“How bad does it hurt?”
“It doesn’t Yvonne do you really love me?” I closed my eyes again this time to see primary colors morphing into secondary colors to become one color flowing in vains through the darkness of my mind as a river. The color I am not able to completely describe, only that it was one which was beauty in the purest of ascetic forms.
“Yvonne, the change is near.” I opened my eyes. “The transition. Yours is next. The chemicals controlling you, you will control yourself one day.” I jumped up
“How did you know that Zoey?” I demanded. I was tall, taller than before, almost hitting the roof. I sat back down, ashamed at what I had said. Zoey knew everything, he had the picture.
“I’m in love with Ron.”
“He is never coming back Yvonne.” His words rolled out of his mouth in little blocks that floated past me, then disappeared.
“Is this it Zoey?”
“It’s ok, we are all coming around.” Zoey was right and a lightness filled my body. I wrote Zoey a note and tried to find my way through the maze of hallways in my apartment. Then finally I found it. Candyland. Zoey was awaiting me in the kitchen.
“Why here?” Then he saw the game I was holding.
“Oh I see.” We both sat down and played the game until we could no longer keep our eyes open, and I fell into a deep sleep on the hard marble floor.

The Power of Taking

2010-01-16T13:53:00.001-08:00

Zoey drags his feet when he walks in, tracking in dirt all over my wooden floors. I ignore it, and turn to lay on the couch. I let myself fall silently on to the soft leather. Zoey strolls over and flops himself on the chair below my feet. He rubs his eyes, and coughs.
“Ron’s gone”
“I know, you know what bitch, I got nothing.” Little tears would have been streaming out but his eyes were so puffy nothing could come through. I didn’t want to hear his sad story. I had one of my own. I was in completely agony. The only thing keeping him here, was my immense need for companionship, still I sighed and let him talk.
“What happened Zoey?”
He looked at me strangely, deeply, then looked to the ground and touched the tips of his shoes together.
“Alright bitch, so there I was.” He paused coughed a little cough, which almost made him seem feminine. “I was there outside of my house, I was smoking a blunt, like I do. You know how I do. Red was at my house. Fucking Red.” He coughed again, and I sat up interested in what he had to say.
“So I go tell Red I’m going to the liquor store. I go, when I come back all these cops pass me. I had to eat all my weed. You know how much I had bitch?”
I shook my head.
“Three grams. Good shit. I can’t even think it was so bad. Those fucking pigs were headed straight for my house. My house is under Reds name. I never give my name out to anyone. I stood by the gate just watchen the cops go in. Then I hear blasten like nothing.”
He stopped. He couldn’t go on. I knew the rest anyway.
“I’m sorry Zoey.”
“No you’re not bitch. Your man is gone. My dude is dead. You hear me? Dead. Would have been me. Should have been me.”
“I ain’t got no one else to go to. Everyone thinks I’m a snitch, and I got Red killed. You . . .” Then he let his head drop. “Can I?”
“Yes you can stay here, but you must promise not to touch me. I’m not trying to be inconsiderate, but I don’t want to go through what you’re going though, given the situation I’m in.”
“I know not to touch you Yvonne.” He didn’t call me bitch. How strange. I slid my legs off the couch and tightened my robe. Then went to the kitchen to get a couple of beers.
“So what do we do?”
“I have to find Ron.” Zoey shook his head.
“Yvonne you gone done fucked up.”
“I know but I must find him and explain. I will explain everything.”
“Everything? Everything?”
“Yes.” Zoey sat back and stared at the ceiling and I looked up with him as if something was actually there.
“Red is dead. You are going to find Ron, and tell him about your special weird shit, and you think he’ll come back?” It was as if he was talking to himself. He immediately turned to me and gave me an intense look.
“How come you couldn’t predict this? Did you fucking know he was gonna die? Am I dead? Bitch tell me or I’ll touch you I swear.”
“Calm down Zoey, I can only know the past not the future, I’m not a fortune teller ya know.”
“I just feel like killing every single one of those cops.” We both looked towards the window, as if something out there would save us both from this misery, and for a second I thought it would. The daylight was ending. Night twilight had begun. This was suppose to make me happy, but all I felt was the numbness that engulfed my body.
“You want drugs now?”
“Yes.” I said not pulling away from my stare.
“Its this shit that . . .” But I cut him off.
“I don’t care.”
“XTC it is then.”

The Power of Taking

2010-01-13T10:48:00.001-08:00

My chest was frozen. My heart barely beating. I automatically picked up the phone and dialed Ron’s number. No answer. I couldn’t leave a voice mail, I couldn’t speak. My chest had become a stone of pain and sorrow. I called again, then again, not once did I reach him. I searched the house with fury for a note, a letter, something to tell me where he was or what he was doing. The thought had even crossed my mind that he was dead. How was I suppose to know? A rush, a harsh rush came over me, and a lump in my throat felt like it would suffocate me. I had never had this feeling. I thought I would die. I laid on the floor in our living room, OUR living room. I curled to my side so that the lump would go away, surely I felt I would die. That’s when tears began pouring down my cheeks. I couldn’t think straight. What was happening to me? My feelings were brought on by Ron, but they were mine, and it hurt, physically. I closed my eyes and try to imagine where he was at this moment, what he was doing, what he was thinking. All that came to my head was a large knot of memories with him, that overrode anything else stacked in the library of my brain. His curly red hair, his pale face, his green eyes, his bad clothing, his skinny body, the way he looked at me, the first time he said I love you. We had stopped at a gas station on the way to San Fran. I went in to get an energy drink. When I stepped out I saw him leaning smiling by the car. My heart jumped. I had been with all day yet, at that moment I didn’t want to be with anyone but him. I walked up, ducking my head, hiding my smile, self protection for myself. His hand grazed my chin, I thought he would kiss me, instead he said he loved me. Little tears had pooled in the corners of his eyes, and I pulled his thin body against mine. He wrapped his arms around me and it began to rain lightly. I said it back. In his ear, I whispered it, and I could have swore there was a jolt that went through him, like my words had been some magic electric stream that engulfed him. We got in the car, shielding ourselves from the rain, he grabbed my hand as he drove, sweaty palms and all. His palms were always sweaty, it was cute to me. I had made him nervous at all times, but the good kind of nervous, as he explained it to me.
“Butterflies.”
“What do you mean, like you feel like you have bugs in your stomach?”
“No silly, it’s a light feeling that get when you laugh or just giggle.”
I understood now what he meant, as my felt my heart had turned into an object. A cold stone weighing me down. I thought my heart would just stop. I reached over and grabbed my phone, still laying on the floor, I looked at my phone sideways and called Zoey, no answer. What did it matter anyway? Zoey wasn’t Ron. Zoey couldn’t make Ron appear. I grabbed my face and pulled at it, wanting to stop crying. I couldn’t take this. I wondered if I should go to the doctor, surely people don’t feel physical pain over a situation like this. I closed my eyes, and laid there, stuck in my fetal position, until my swollen eyes closed and I drifted off to sleep.
I had no dreams, yet when I woke, I was sure Ron was in the house. I jumped up and looked though every inch of the apartment but he was nowhere to be found. I had to deal with reality, and it was hitting me hard. I pulled myself up and felt heavy, heavier than ever. I looked down and my body was disgusting. I felt it was covered in dirt, so I slumped my way to the shower. It seemed the more I walked the more the thought of Ron gone, weighed on me. I was suppose to be at work, but I could never make it. I could hardly make it to the shower. I didn’t take off my clothes. I was still wearing the outfit from the previous day. I turned the shower on, and got inside, letting the cold drops cling to my clothes. I lightly hit my head on the wall, letting the water combine with my tears. Had Ron seen the kiss? The note? I could explain everything. I would explain it all to him, if he were just here, but he fucking left me here to suffer. At once I hated the drenched clothes I wore. I blamed them for my feeling of pain. I pulled them off and curled at the bottom of the shower, staring at the tile. This didn’t feel real, it couldn’t be. I reached up and turned the shower off leaving my clothes there. Naked and wet I threw myself on the bed, our bed, and buried myself deep in the covers. Through the window, tiny beams of light were hitting my bedroom, I wanted it all gone. I wanted to be gone. I wanted to be in a dark place where Ron had left me.
I was sweating, no more dreaming for me. The sweat rolled down my face and into my eyes. I threw the covers off and grabbed my phone. It was blinking red. Excitement filled me. I threw my legs of the bed and just looked at the little mail symbol on my phone, hoping it was Ron. It had to be. I took in a deep breath and read:
Hey, are you there? Are you ok? It’s ok Yvonne, he will be back. – Zoey
My face automatically pulled into itself, and tears rolled down my cheeks with such force I couldn’t stand it, so I laid back in bed. I dragged my phone to my ear.
“Hello Yvonne, why did you not show up today?”
“I’m sick Ms.Danley.”
“You should have called ahead of time, this is not acceptable.” I paused and rush of rage entered in me.
“Fuck you and your shitty position.” Dead silence. I hung up. Now I didn’t have a job. Great. The phone rang. It was Alba. I didn’t pick up. I threw my phone and put my head under my pillow, trying desperately to go to sleep, but it wasn’t happening. For once in my life, I felt everything was against me. Like the world wanted to shut me down. I rolled out of bed and grabbed my phone.
“Zoey”
“Yvonne, are you ok?”
“No Zoey.”
“Me either.” What a relief, someone else with problems.
“Can I stay with you.” I looked around the house, wondering Ron was home, and a silence filled the air.
“I don’t think Ron is there Yvonne, I’m in front of your house.”
“What happened?” My voice was deeper then normal.
“What happened to you! Your voice is sick. Just let me in.”
“I will.” There were no good byes. Just the sound of the click on his phone. I got up, put on bathroom, and opened the door. Standing before me was Zoey, drenched. Had it rained? The sky was cloudy. I sighed, then noticed his eyes were as puffy as mine.
“You look like shit Yvonne.”
“So do you, come in.”

Satanism (a break from The Power of Taking)

2010-01-09T18:38:00.000-08:00

Taking the Satan Out of Satanism
Every time I approach my car to get in I have to inspect every bit of it for graffiti, fliers, or damage. I am a Modern Satanist, and a very proud one at that. I have Satanic stickers on the bumper of my car, but did you know that Modern Satanist’s don’t believe in Satan? I can bet 95% of the population doesn’t and the other 5% are Satanist. So why doesn’t anyone know about the religion? Well the answer is because most Satanist keep to themselves, not exposing their religion because of its name. The word itself Satan, scares people, yet the word Atheist does not, and Satanist are not far from the Atheist belief system.
What are Satanists? Well we, like atheists do not believe in a heaven or hell, nor do we believe in God or the Devil. Satanists, however, do have standards to live by like any other religion out there. There are nine Satanic Statement originally made by Anton Levay. The modern Satanist adopted these nine statements.
The first and most important one is that to indulge instead of constricting ones live style. Now there is a difference between indulgence and compulsion. This statement is meant to declare to always be good to yourself and your basic needs.
The second declares vital existence instead of spiritual pipe dreams. This is just as an atheist would believe. Living in the moment is the second most important thing to a Satanist, having dreams of future only wastes time for a Satanist who believes that now is the most important time.
The third declares that we abide by undefiled wisdom instead of hypocritical self-deceit. Which is simple to explain. Like any Atheist, it should always be Science and the knowledge of those who know truth, before you deceive your ways of thinking, that towards thoughts that are not based on facts.
The Forth is kindness to those who deserve it instead of love wasted on ingrates. If you were to love the whole world could you? Should you love those who have hurt you? Think about these questions. If you concentrate your love on those who deserve it, you will receive the same. This statement is meant to show how a person can place their emotions properly as to live a happy and healthy lifestyle.
The fifth statement is the ole ‘eye for an eye’ saying. If you do not believe in anything spiritual, then why would you not choose revenge over karma?
The sixth statement is about responsibility to the responsible instead of concern for those who use you.
The seventh statement is that man is by nature an animal. Because of this, he should respect all living creatures on the planet. We have evolved into believing that we are not animals sometimes we forget our fellow critters are as us.
The eight statement is geared more towards the Christian religion. It states that all of the so-called sins lead to physical, mental, or emotional gratification. This is to say the nature of man is that the first instinct is Self Preservation. The Second being to reproduction. These sins are viewed as natural to Satanists. When comes to killing (and I get this all of the time) I believe, as most Satanist do, that if one wishes to kill and has no regret in doing so then he/she will pay for their own needs or desires, and it is of no concern to Satanists in general.

The ninth statement reads that Satan has kept the church in business all these years. This means that if it weren’t for the name of Satan there would be no church, no belief. This statement also explains the name of the religion. Satan being one that average people would think of as evil, mean, and bad. In the Christian religion Satan does not suffer. He gets what he wants and does as he pleases and for that he is evil? Modern Satanists do the same. They are in charge of their own lives, and live it quite happily.

Above all, Satanism started out as a joke for me. Yes I had known some pretty happy Satanists here and there, but never really looked into the religion, being an atheist at the time. One day I had a stalker who was a radically Christian, so to get her off my back I read everything you could read about Satanism, and found myself in a position of disbelief that a religion so good for you could be passed up as something dreadful. That particular year I had a lot of rough mental times, when I was done with my research I sat back relaxed, and decided I was to be a Satanist and enjoy my life.