Henry sat in his cubicle pondering what he should do next. Just a few minutes earlier, he was on the phone, talking with a woman who believed she was his wife. He stared blankly at randomly pinned vacation pictures. Bewildered by the woman's story, he wondered if she was a hoax, or if she was for real. If the latter was true, then the situation had the potential for becoming dangerous.
She gave her name and number. Henry was surprised to find out that he, unconsciously, scribbled the information down on a sticky. He looked at the sloppy handwriting. It said Marla Solenski and the phone number was local.
In the phone conversation, she revealed very little about herself. All she kept saying, was how much she had missed him, and how much she could not wait for the reunion. When he asked her about where they had met, her answer was, Wholesale Pyrotechnics. The very same company that Henry presently worked.
Henry placed a call to Gina from human resources to see if it was possible to confirm her existence. Upon hearing Henry's story, she agreed to help, but said it would take an hour.
Henry opened up his web browser and began surfing to pass the time.
He happened upon the website of the 24 hour news station, GNCN. There was an article about ten marines being killed, when their humvee was attacked by insurgents. Henry thought about the shaky video footage he had seen on the television the night before, and wondered if this attack looked similar. The web page had a link to some video footage. With his internet connection just recently being upgraded to broadband service, the footage was quick to download. The footage was shot from a helicopter and it showed a black crater with smoke rising into in the desert sky.
It brought back memories of his encounter with a rocket propelled grenade back more than a decade before, during the gulf war. His theory being that it was friendly fire, but the official account being an enemy launched rpg. He rubbed his left thigh which still had a swath of metal shrapnel lodged in it.
Despite his past experience, Henry thought nothing of the new's footage. With modern day news coverage and all, it was nothing new. Not exceptional. Not emotionally stirring. Almost boring. While in his state of numbness, he realized that it was good that he was able to view the footage at all. The streaming video was a feat that could not have been performed on the old slower internet connection. He thought about his bright and shiny future with broadband internet access and smiled.
The ringing phone interupted his pleasure bathing. It was Gina from human resources. She had the results.
"What did you find Gina?"
"She actually did work here. Not that long ago either, it was like six-months ago. She worked a temp job in accounting. Has a picture with the file. You know, I could get in trouble for telling you this."
"I know Gina, but I have another favor to ask. Can I see the file?"
"Um, I guess so. Why do this all half-assed? If I am going to get fired, I am going all-the-way. Meet me at the water fountain."
"Alright, I am on my way." Henry hung up the phone and paused for a moment, while still processing the newly acquired information. He got up and began walking towards the water fountain and realized that he was walking the wrong way and corrected himself. As he walked the hall he began to image what this Marla Solenski could possibly look like, and whether or not he had seen her before. He made it to the water fountain and Gina was not there yet. Gina found him hunched over drinking water when she arrived.
As Henry drank, Gina leaned over and smacked him on his ass. Henry stood up straight and wiped the excess water from his mouth with his sleeve. "Here is the picture of your wife." Gina handed him the photograph.
Henry studied the photograph. On it was the image of an attractive young white woman with blonde hair and a slender build. The woman was familiar, although he could not place where he had seen her before. His mind shuffled through the possibilities. He thought maybe he had met her before during a night of heavy drinking at a bar, and that would explain the hazy familiarity. He thought that maybe he had caught a glance of her, while passing her in the hall sometime. The more he thought about it, the more he began thinking that perhaps he had seen her in a dream. But that would be absurd.
"No, I don't recognize her..." Henry said while handing the photograph back to Gina. "...you say she worked in accounting?"
"Yeah for about two months." Gina said, taking note on how long Henry looked at the photo. "She was a temp. When Sara returned from maternity leave, she was no longer needed."
"I see. That's interesting that she actually worked here. Is there anything else you could tell me about her?" Henry asked while he grabbed the photo for another look.
"She is 25 years old, she went to Detroit University,... just typical resume stuff."
"Wow, she is hot, don't you think. Too bad she is a nut."
"Maybe she was just fucking with you. Are you sure you don't know her?"
"No-", Henry said, while actually being undecided on whether he did or not, he continued, "- No, not really. However, she really seemed to believe that she was married to me."
"So what are you going to do?"
"I don't know."
Gina rolled her eyes and gave out an audible sigh. She knew Henry, and knew what he was thinking. He was contemplating, calling this woman back to fuck her. As soon as he gets to a phone, he was going to call this mysterious young woman. And that she was going to scam him in some way. And that either she was going to get hurt or that she was going to get hurt. --
"What are you thinking about?" Henry interrupted. Gina looked up and decided to tell Henry what he needed to hear.
"I think that you are foolishly thinking with your dick." Gina replied with a matter-of-fact stare.
"You are right." Henry quipped with a hopeless grin planted on his face.
"Whatever, do whatever."
As Henry walked away, he turned around and said, "Hey Gina, don't let this get around the office. This is just between you and me."
"Sure. whatever."
Henry was not convinced that Gina was going to keep her mouth shut but there was nothing else he could do to help prevent it. Besides, his mind was firmly fixed on the image of the young woman, whose name was Marla Solenski, who happens to be a stunning beauty, and is convinced that she is married to him. He was consumed with her picture and all of the soft light bouncing around her flawless porcelin skin, her pink lips, and shiny blonde hair. 'I bet she went to that glamour shots place at the mall', he thought. His next series of thoughts were about all of the different ways that he could have possibly met her before. Afterall, she knew him, and he somewhat remembered her.
He stopped by accounting where a group of middle-aged women sat smoking and crunching numbers. They said that they remembered the young pretty woman. That she did a good job and seemed normal. They added that she was polite. When he inquired about her having a relationship, they said that she was dating someone in the company but they had no idea who.
When Henry got to his desk, he found that he could no longer do his job. He typed numbers into the spreadsheets and then lost track of where he was and started over again. His mind was not functioning properly with the distraction sitting on it. One part of him was soaring and wanted to meet her, the other part was tugging on the other's leg, trying to bring him back down to reality. And then he made his decision.
'This is ridiculous. I am being stupid, Gina was right, now is the time to end this...' Henry thought and dialed Marla's phone number to put an end to it all.
She picked up after two rings.:
"Hello?"
"Marla, this is Henry from Wholesale Pyrotechnics. I found out that you did work here, but that does not matter. I don't know if you are seeing a psychiatrist right now or what, but that is something that you should really look in to. Because I am definitely not married to you. Don't you think that I would know if I was married or not and to which woman I was married to? "
"Henry-"
"Wait, I am not finished. Although your story was very interesting, I am calling to tell you to not to bother me... anymore...." Henry's voice faded off into silence. To say that he did not want her to ever bother him again would be a lie. Appropriate maybe, but not what he wanted to say. He felt stupid and began to realize he was falling for some perverse scam. Yet he hesitated. He was unsure of the reason. He thought that maybe it was the faint familiarity. And that he was curious about who she was because of the fact that she did work there. And then he realized that the real reason was because of her picture, with her beautiful green eyes looking directly into the camera lens. It was simple carnal lust. And he was fine with that.
"Henry.", came the soothing voice from the other end. A voice that all of a sudden, sounded like a voice that he had lived with all of his life.
"Yes.", came his reply.
"We are married. You don't have to believe me, I know. It is important that we meet."
"My intellect is telling me to stay far away from you. That you are dangerous. Your story is obviously wrong. I don't even remember meeting you when you worked-."
"Henry! Why are you thinking so much? You know you are not a thinker, so stop pretending to be. What is it that you feel? I said I worked there but we did not meet there... when I worked at Wholesale Pyrotechnics, that is where I first realized that you were still..."
"What? If we did not meet here, then where did we meet?"
".... we met in Europe."
(...to be continued...)
upcoming chapters:
"my evil doppleganger killed a cop",
"worshipping a golden mechanical bull is outdated",
"i can't read",
and "these are a godless people".
December 24, 2005
December 23, 2005
Brain Damaged in the Wonderful World
Drunk and tired, Henry watched televison in the confines of his dark living room. On the televison was a special on the ' War on Terror', produced by the 24 hour news network, GNCN. Shaky handheld video showing a small group of young insurgents appeared. They wore masks covering their faces and one of them launched a RPG at an American humvee.
'Fucking terrorists', Henry thought and then stopped thinking. He instinctively rubbed his thigh, where steel shrapnel is permanently residing. He glanced up at the clock. It read, 4:30 am. All of a sudden realizing that he's been watching GNCN for the last 2 hours.
'I need to get to bed. But the show is almost over...' Henry brooded over the decison, while at the same time, three masked insurgents appeared from the adjacent room, lit only by the glow of the television screen. Brandishing an RPG launcher they aimed its crosshairs in Henry's direction, another held the decapitation knife. Henry bolted up out of his seat, breathing heavily, adrenaline pumping. He glanced about ready to fight or run, but they were gone.
'Where did they go?'
Henry realized as things quieted down that the attack was just a dream. He turned off the television, drank a glass of water, and went to sleep.
The next morning Henry awakened. Still tired, he reluctantly hoisted himself up and showered. After a cup of coffee he was on his way to work. Henry glanced up at the sky during the drive. It was an amazingly clear day, and the early winter sun, which was off at an angle, was unusually bright.
When he got to the office, he noticed a bunch of workers sorting out wires in the cubicle filled room. He studied them for a moment before walking to his desk. Once at the desk, Henry discovered that his internet was not working. Henry checked all of the connections on his computer upset at the prospect of not having internet that day The internet was his only distraction from doing actual work. Passing by was Henry's boss. He saw Henry messing with the computer settings.
"Oh yeah, the internet is not working because it is being upgraded." said the Boss.
"Upgraded?"
"Yes, remember how slow it was before? Now it is going to be much faster. Broadband, I think they call it."
"Wow. That sounds great."
"Yeah, it should be up and running in a few hours. Until then, hang in there buddy." His boss smiled and winked, the wink was his trademark. Henry smiled and gave the affirming thumbs up. And the boss walked on to jabber with some of Henry's other co-workers.
'Broadband internet', Henry thought to himself, smothering the thought all over his toasted giddiness. The day was shaping up to be an unusually great day. Henry put his arms behind his head and leaned back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling with a smile on his face.
Then his phone rang.
"Wholesale Pyrotechnics, Henry speaking."
"Henry?" came the voice of a young woman.
"Yes, Henry speaking."
"Henry Fulton?"
"Yeah, thats me, how may I help you?"
"Its me, Marla."
"Yeah, Ok."
"I'm your wife."
whaaaa?....
(to be continnnnnnued...")
'Fucking terrorists', Henry thought and then stopped thinking. He instinctively rubbed his thigh, where steel shrapnel is permanently residing. He glanced up at the clock. It read, 4:30 am. All of a sudden realizing that he's been watching GNCN for the last 2 hours.
'I need to get to bed. But the show is almost over...' Henry brooded over the decison, while at the same time, three masked insurgents appeared from the adjacent room, lit only by the glow of the television screen. Brandishing an RPG launcher they aimed its crosshairs in Henry's direction, another held the decapitation knife. Henry bolted up out of his seat, breathing heavily, adrenaline pumping. He glanced about ready to fight or run, but they were gone.
'Where did they go?'
Henry realized as things quieted down that the attack was just a dream. He turned off the television, drank a glass of water, and went to sleep.
The next morning Henry awakened. Still tired, he reluctantly hoisted himself up and showered. After a cup of coffee he was on his way to work. Henry glanced up at the sky during the drive. It was an amazingly clear day, and the early winter sun, which was off at an angle, was unusually bright.
When he got to the office, he noticed a bunch of workers sorting out wires in the cubicle filled room. He studied them for a moment before walking to his desk. Once at the desk, Henry discovered that his internet was not working. Henry checked all of the connections on his computer upset at the prospect of not having internet that day The internet was his only distraction from doing actual work. Passing by was Henry's boss. He saw Henry messing with the computer settings.
"Oh yeah, the internet is not working because it is being upgraded." said the Boss.
"Upgraded?"
"Yes, remember how slow it was before? Now it is going to be much faster. Broadband, I think they call it."
"Wow. That sounds great."
"Yeah, it should be up and running in a few hours. Until then, hang in there buddy." His boss smiled and winked, the wink was his trademark. Henry smiled and gave the affirming thumbs up. And the boss walked on to jabber with some of Henry's other co-workers.
'Broadband internet', Henry thought to himself, smothering the thought all over his toasted giddiness. The day was shaping up to be an unusually great day. Henry put his arms behind his head and leaned back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling with a smile on his face.
Then his phone rang.
"Wholesale Pyrotechnics, Henry speaking."
"Henry?" came the voice of a young woman.
"Yes, Henry speaking."
"Henry Fulton?"
"Yeah, thats me, how may I help you?"
"Its me, Marla."
"Yeah, Ok."
"I'm your wife."
whaaaa?....
(to be continnnnnnued...")
December 20, 2005
haunted house part II
THE NEXT NIGHT
Aaargh!! Dude, what the fuck, I am trying to sleep. Roger? Yeah, its me. I just saw something. I don't care, just keep quiet. Seriously dude, there was this black pyramid floating through my room. A black pyramid? C'mon man. Yeah, I swear to god, this black pyramid! Dude, just go back to sleep, you've been smoking way too much shit. No fucking way am I go back to sleep, I'm going to get a drink. Fine, I'm going back to my room and back to sleep, just, ... keep it quiet.
30 MINUTES LATER
Roooooger. Wha-? Who said that? Roooger. Charley! Stop fucking with me! Dude, I am trying to sleep. Roger! Dude! Stop it! Dude, what's going on? I was downstairs. You were whispering my name. No I wasn't, I was downstairs. Dude. Dude. ----***I AM SATAN!!!***--- Dude, did you hear that? Yeah.
5 MINUTES LATER
Screeeaaammm! I can't breathe! Let me out of here! Let me out!!!
Aaargh!! Dude, what the fuck, I am trying to sleep. Roger? Yeah, its me. I just saw something. I don't care, just keep quiet. Seriously dude, there was this black pyramid floating through my room. A black pyramid? C'mon man. Yeah, I swear to god, this black pyramid! Dude, just go back to sleep, you've been smoking way too much shit. No fucking way am I go back to sleep, I'm going to get a drink. Fine, I'm going back to my room and back to sleep, just, ... keep it quiet.
30 MINUTES LATER
Roooooger. Wha-? Who said that? Roooger. Charley! Stop fucking with me! Dude, I am trying to sleep. Roger! Dude! Stop it! Dude, what's going on? I was downstairs. You were whispering my name. No I wasn't, I was downstairs. Dude. Dude. ----***I AM SATAN!!!***--- Dude, did you hear that? Yeah.
5 MINUTES LATER
Screeeaaammm! I can't breathe! Let me out of here! Let me out!!!
December 11, 2005
haunted house
Howdy neighbors. Would you folks happen to have an extra beer for an old man? Mmm, that is a tasty brew. Can I also bum a cigarette? Yes sir, this is the life. Sitting on the front porch on a summer day, smoking a cigarette and drinking a cold one. So how do you like the neighborhood thus far? Good, good. Glad you like it. How has the house been? Solid? Excellent. You know, most people who ever lived in that house say that the place is haunted. Yes, haunted. And not the Casper the friendly ghost types either, ...mean, nasty things. A few months, thats how long most last. But since you guys seem to be experiencing no problems, then maybe its not haunted afterall. And I'll drink to that. Now, you fellas have a good night for I think that I have drank well past my limit.
2 DAYS LATER --House warming party
Laughter. I'm gonna get you! Ha Ha Tim! Stop! I can't breathe! Pizza anybody? Who here wants to play a game? What kinda game? Jessica, you naughty girl. Tee hee. DRAG, exhale. Oooh me! I want to play! Well since Roger here tells me that there are supposedly ghosts here, I thought it appropriate that we play Ouija. Karen, you are insane, where did you get that thing? I have my ways. Karen, I don't know about this... Shut up Darlene, you are such a pussy. I know. nibbles. Ha Ha Ha. We'll lets get started, what should we ask first?
10 MINUTES LATER
Karen keep your head tilted back, otherwise your nose isn't going to stop bleeding. I'm going to take her home Roger, see you at work. We're leaving too. That was such a freak accident that lamp falling over like that and onto her nose. Yeah, good thing it wasn't broken. Her nose or the vase? Shut up Charlie, she could hear you. See you Roger. bye.
2 DAYS LATER --House warming party
Laughter. I'm gonna get you! Ha Ha Tim! Stop! I can't breathe! Pizza anybody? Who here wants to play a game? What kinda game? Jessica, you naughty girl. Tee hee. DRAG, exhale. Oooh me! I want to play! Well since Roger here tells me that there are supposedly ghosts here, I thought it appropriate that we play Ouija. Karen, you are insane, where did you get that thing? I have my ways. Karen, I don't know about this... Shut up Darlene, you are such a pussy. I know. nibbles. Ha Ha Ha. We'll lets get started, what should we ask first?
10 MINUTES LATER
Karen keep your head tilted back, otherwise your nose isn't going to stop bleeding. I'm going to take her home Roger, see you at work. We're leaving too. That was such a freak accident that lamp falling over like that and onto her nose. Yeah, good thing it wasn't broken. Her nose or the vase? Shut up Charlie, she could hear you. See you Roger. bye.
December 06, 2005
list
magical world of mystery
notes from the underground
tir na nog
the theory of relativity
a total solar eclipse in kentucky
notes from the underground
tir na nog
the theory of relativity
a total solar eclipse in kentucky
November 30, 2005
friends
One morning I awoke to the ringing sound of my phone.
"Dude, did I wake you up?", came the tinny voice. A voice that I instantly recognized as that of my friend Charlie, an old co-worker that still drank with me sometimes.
"Yeah." I tried my best to say as few words as possible so the conversation could end sooner and I could get back to sleep.
"Sorry about that."
"Its alright."
"I was calling to see if you could give me a ride to the airport."
Ahh, he wanted a ride to the airport. A ride to the airport, which was 30 minutes away, to a man that never helped with gas money. I did not want to do it, all I really wanted to do was go back to sleep. But a better person in me believed in charity.
"Uhhh. I guess I could do that."
"Well, I know you work the midnight shift and all, so if you want to go back to sleep, I'll just get a cab."
Yes a cab. That would have been perfect. But I had to ask, just out of curiosity.
"How much does the cab cost?"
"Like 30 bucks." He said with a tone to emphasize how that was ridiculous. Thirty bucks was a lot of money. I'd would have felt like a real douche if I had not taken him at that point.
"Yeah, fuck it, I'll take you."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah,...because that's what friends are for."
At that moment I realized I just said the lyrics to a song. I think Charlie on the other end realized that I had just said some lyrics too. I thought about it for a moment and remembered that Stevie Wonder, Elton John, and Dionne Warrick sang the song. The song started to play in my head at the same time.
"Dude, I think that is a lyric to a song."
"Yeah, I know. Not a lyric though, thats the chorus."
"That's what friends are for."
"Yep....
....I'll just get a taxi."
"Yeah, you do that."
Charlie hung up and that was the last time we ever talked to each other. He died three years later in a horrible plane crash.
Unable to get back to sleep, I got dressed in my workout clothes and ran 20 miles. Trying to outrun an anxiety that followed me. Why was I anxious? I did not know. When I got home, I was thirsty. I needed water, but I drank whiskey. Its just one of those things that you do. I did not know why it was that I needed a drink, I just needed one. After a quick shower, I went to work.
"Walt! What are you singing?"
I looked up and there was Martha. The M.I.L.F. I looked at her breast and then at her face. She said I was singing. I had no idea that I was singing.
"I wasn't singing."
"Yes you were."
"No I wasn't."
"Yes you were and I think that it's that song with Elton John and Dionne..."
As Martha spoke I began thinking. I was definitely sure that I was not singing aloud, let alone, that song. However that song had been stuck in my head all day. Perhaps I was singing, because how else could Marhta know about my tenuous relationship with that song. I concluded that I must have been singing. But before I confessed, I remembered that her and Charlie was best friends when he worked here. Some people in the office even thought there something else going on besides workplace friendliness. Martha was married with kids, but she was a slut. Everyone here knew it. He must have told her. And I was not going to play this game.
"No I wasn't singing that song. So go fuck off. And tell Charlie 'very funny'."
The whole room was looking at us. Martha had a shocked expression on her face but she was real good at acting. I looked at the whole room with people staring at me. That Charley was a sly devil, he must have told the whole office!
"Ha Ha everyone. Charlie must have told all of you too. That rascal! Do you all really want to hear me sing? Sure." What else did I have to lose, they were all laughing at me anyways. So I sang the most heart wrenching rendition of "Thats what friends are for" in front of the whole office. All parts, Elton John, Stevie Wonder, Gladys, and D-War. When I was finished I looked around and saw tears in some colleague's eyes. And slowly but assuridly applause came in abundance.
Many years later, after I lost my job at the power plant, I got evicted from my apartment. I lived off of unemployment for a while, but could never really find another job. These days, I fancy cheap alcoholic beverages and sing 'That's What Friends are For' over and over and over and over, as I walk the streets.
"Dude, did I wake you up?", came the tinny voice. A voice that I instantly recognized as that of my friend Charlie, an old co-worker that still drank with me sometimes.
"Yeah." I tried my best to say as few words as possible so the conversation could end sooner and I could get back to sleep.
"Sorry about that."
"Its alright."
"I was calling to see if you could give me a ride to the airport."
Ahh, he wanted a ride to the airport. A ride to the airport, which was 30 minutes away, to a man that never helped with gas money. I did not want to do it, all I really wanted to do was go back to sleep. But a better person in me believed in charity.
"Uhhh. I guess I could do that."
"Well, I know you work the midnight shift and all, so if you want to go back to sleep, I'll just get a cab."
Yes a cab. That would have been perfect. But I had to ask, just out of curiosity.
"How much does the cab cost?"
"Like 30 bucks." He said with a tone to emphasize how that was ridiculous. Thirty bucks was a lot of money. I'd would have felt like a real douche if I had not taken him at that point.
"Yeah, fuck it, I'll take you."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah,...because that's what friends are for."
At that moment I realized I just said the lyrics to a song. I think Charlie on the other end realized that I had just said some lyrics too. I thought about it for a moment and remembered that Stevie Wonder, Elton John, and Dionne Warrick sang the song. The song started to play in my head at the same time.
"Dude, I think that is a lyric to a song."
"Yeah, I know. Not a lyric though, thats the chorus."
"That's what friends are for."
"Yep....
....I'll just get a taxi."
"Yeah, you do that."
Charlie hung up and that was the last time we ever talked to each other. He died three years later in a horrible plane crash.
Unable to get back to sleep, I got dressed in my workout clothes and ran 20 miles. Trying to outrun an anxiety that followed me. Why was I anxious? I did not know. When I got home, I was thirsty. I needed water, but I drank whiskey. Its just one of those things that you do. I did not know why it was that I needed a drink, I just needed one. After a quick shower, I went to work.
"Walt! What are you singing?"
I looked up and there was Martha. The M.I.L.F. I looked at her breast and then at her face. She said I was singing. I had no idea that I was singing.
"I wasn't singing."
"Yes you were."
"No I wasn't."
"Yes you were and I think that it's that song with Elton John and Dionne..."
As Martha spoke I began thinking. I was definitely sure that I was not singing aloud, let alone, that song. However that song had been stuck in my head all day. Perhaps I was singing, because how else could Marhta know about my tenuous relationship with that song. I concluded that I must have been singing. But before I confessed, I remembered that her and Charlie was best friends when he worked here. Some people in the office even thought there something else going on besides workplace friendliness. Martha was married with kids, but she was a slut. Everyone here knew it. He must have told her. And I was not going to play this game.
"No I wasn't singing that song. So go fuck off. And tell Charlie 'very funny'."
The whole room was looking at us. Martha had a shocked expression on her face but she was real good at acting. I looked at the whole room with people staring at me. That Charley was a sly devil, he must have told the whole office!
"Ha Ha everyone. Charlie must have told all of you too. That rascal! Do you all really want to hear me sing? Sure." What else did I have to lose, they were all laughing at me anyways. So I sang the most heart wrenching rendition of "Thats what friends are for" in front of the whole office. All parts, Elton John, Stevie Wonder, Gladys, and D-War. When I was finished I looked around and saw tears in some colleague's eyes. And slowly but assuridly applause came in abundance.
Many years later, after I lost my job at the power plant, I got evicted from my apartment. I lived off of unemployment for a while, but could never really find another job. These days, I fancy cheap alcoholic beverages and sing 'That's What Friends are For' over and over and over and over, as I walk the streets.
November 29, 2005
November 26, 2005
November 24, 2005
tapeworms
"Girl, you must have a tapeworm or something. How are you able to eat so much and keep that figure?", Mrs. Robinson said as she made another plate for the half starved white girl. The girl looked to be about 15 years of age from Mrs. Robinson's estimates. Only hours earlier, she had knocked on her door, sopping wet. She seemed harmless enough and, Mrs. Robinson, being a devout Christian could not turn her away.
The girl sat at the kitchen table, along with four of Mrs. Robinson's grandchildren. They ranged in age from 5 to 12. Tonya being the eldest. She seemed fascinated with the white girl that ate as if she had never eaten. "What's your name?", Tonya asked as Mrs. Robinson served another plate to the teen.
"My name? My name is Heather."
"Please to meet you Heather, my name is Tonya. What neighborhood are you from?" Tonya talked as she would to someone who did not know English. "You aren't from around here, are you?"
Focused intently on eating the contents of her second plate, all Heather could do was shake her head, indicating that she was not from their area.
"You must be hungry." Tonya said.
Heather nodded and resumed eating.
"What are you doing in this part of town?", despite being 12 years in age, Tonya was streetwise and not for one second did she trust the white girl that sat before her in her grandmother's house. But being twelve, she lacked the tact nor patience.
"Tonya shut your mouth! Stop harassing the poor white girl. Can't you see she is hungry? Let her eat in peace, and then, if she wants, you all can talk afterwards.", Mrs. Robinson was from a different era than her grand-daughter. In her time people were more polite. Not like the kids today, with their hip-hop.
Heather stopped eaten after the grandmother's outburst and said, "Its ok Mrs. Robinson, I appreciate all that you all have done for me thus far, and you all deserve some answers. I was just on my way to my friend's house and got caught in that rain storm. Thats it."
Mrs. Robinson might have been a gullible woman at times, but one thing she did know after raising six kids without a father was a when she was lied to. "Who is your friend Heather? Maybe we know them. We could call them and they could come get you. Better yet, maybe I could call your parents."
"No, you can't call my parents."
"Tonya, take your brothers and sisters and go to your room.", obediantly Tonya took her three siblings and went to the room that they all shared. "Heather, obviously you are in some trouble."
"No trouble, I was on my way to visit my friend."
"Girl, you don't know anybody in this neighborhood. Unless you are a crackhead. And you don't look like no crackhead. I've seen many a hopeless person come and go, and you ain't one of them. How old are you?"
"15"
"15. A pretty white girl fifteen years of age, going to throw her future away over nothing. Don't you think that your parents miss you? I bet they are worried sick and are looking everywhere for you."
"No," Heather began to cry, "its was not over nothing. You don't understand. And besides, you can't call them."
"Why not, you can't go on li-"
"Because they are dead.", she said it without emotion. As if they meant nothing to her. Mrs. Robinson unconsciously grabbed her gold crucifix that dangled from a necklace and began rubbing it.
Heather broke the silence by saying, "I have to go to the bathroom, where is it?" Mrs Robinson pointed in the direction. Heather said thanks and took off.
A few minutes later, Tonya came into the kitchen.
"Tonya what did I tell you? Go back to your room."
"But grandma, that white girl sounds like she is sick or something. She has been throwing up in there for five minutes." As soon as Tonya finished her sentence, Heather came walking into the kitchen.
"Are you ok?" Mrs Robinson asked as Tonya went back to her room.
"Yeah. Why do you ask?"
"Tonya said you were throwing up. Were you throwing up?"
A faint smile appeared on Heather's face. "Yeah."
"Are you sick?"
"No."
"Then why were you throwing up?"
"Mrs. Robinson, how else do you think a pretty white girl like me maintains this figure?"
"Heather, I am going to have to ask you to leave. I've tried my best,.... Lord knows, I've tried my best. But I can't help you. I definitely can't have you around my grandkids. So please leave." Mrs. Robinson gestured towards the door and held it.
"Mrs. Robinson, I thank you for everything that you have done. taking me in your home for the last couple of hours until the rain subsided. But finally, I see the rain outside has stopped, and it is time for me to go on my way." With a wave of the hand the white girl gently let herself out of the house. Making sure that the door did not slam on the way out. Mrs. Robinson watched her dissappear down the street into the darkness through her window.
"Crazy ass white girls." she muttered to herself. "Tonya! Get in here and vacuum the living room. Its a mess! And don't ask me no questions about that crazy ass white girl."
A few blocks down the road, Heather was approached by a small group of kids.
"Hey foxy mama, what are you doing here in our hood? Are you here to buy some weed? Some cocaine?"
Heather, afraid as would any teenaged white girl would be in the situation, looked up from the ground and into the eyes of the dealer and asked, "Do you have any tapeworms?"
The girl sat at the kitchen table, along with four of Mrs. Robinson's grandchildren. They ranged in age from 5 to 12. Tonya being the eldest. She seemed fascinated with the white girl that ate as if she had never eaten. "What's your name?", Tonya asked as Mrs. Robinson served another plate to the teen.
"My name? My name is Heather."
"Please to meet you Heather, my name is Tonya. What neighborhood are you from?" Tonya talked as she would to someone who did not know English. "You aren't from around here, are you?"
Focused intently on eating the contents of her second plate, all Heather could do was shake her head, indicating that she was not from their area.
"You must be hungry." Tonya said.
Heather nodded and resumed eating.
"What are you doing in this part of town?", despite being 12 years in age, Tonya was streetwise and not for one second did she trust the white girl that sat before her in her grandmother's house. But being twelve, she lacked the tact nor patience.
"Tonya shut your mouth! Stop harassing the poor white girl. Can't you see she is hungry? Let her eat in peace, and then, if she wants, you all can talk afterwards.", Mrs. Robinson was from a different era than her grand-daughter. In her time people were more polite. Not like the kids today, with their hip-hop.
Heather stopped eaten after the grandmother's outburst and said, "Its ok Mrs. Robinson, I appreciate all that you all have done for me thus far, and you all deserve some answers. I was just on my way to my friend's house and got caught in that rain storm. Thats it."
Mrs. Robinson might have been a gullible woman at times, but one thing she did know after raising six kids without a father was a when she was lied to. "Who is your friend Heather? Maybe we know them. We could call them and they could come get you. Better yet, maybe I could call your parents."
"No, you can't call my parents."
"Tonya, take your brothers and sisters and go to your room.", obediantly Tonya took her three siblings and went to the room that they all shared. "Heather, obviously you are in some trouble."
"No trouble, I was on my way to visit my friend."
"Girl, you don't know anybody in this neighborhood. Unless you are a crackhead. And you don't look like no crackhead. I've seen many a hopeless person come and go, and you ain't one of them. How old are you?"
"15"
"15. A pretty white girl fifteen years of age, going to throw her future away over nothing. Don't you think that your parents miss you? I bet they are worried sick and are looking everywhere for you."
"No," Heather began to cry, "its was not over nothing. You don't understand. And besides, you can't call them."
"Why not, you can't go on li-"
"Because they are dead.", she said it without emotion. As if they meant nothing to her. Mrs. Robinson unconsciously grabbed her gold crucifix that dangled from a necklace and began rubbing it.
Heather broke the silence by saying, "I have to go to the bathroom, where is it?" Mrs Robinson pointed in the direction. Heather said thanks and took off.
A few minutes later, Tonya came into the kitchen.
"Tonya what did I tell you? Go back to your room."
"But grandma, that white girl sounds like she is sick or something. She has been throwing up in there for five minutes." As soon as Tonya finished her sentence, Heather came walking into the kitchen.
"Are you ok?" Mrs Robinson asked as Tonya went back to her room.
"Yeah. Why do you ask?"
"Tonya said you were throwing up. Were you throwing up?"
A faint smile appeared on Heather's face. "Yeah."
"Are you sick?"
"No."
"Then why were you throwing up?"
"Mrs. Robinson, how else do you think a pretty white girl like me maintains this figure?"
"Heather, I am going to have to ask you to leave. I've tried my best,.... Lord knows, I've tried my best. But I can't help you. I definitely can't have you around my grandkids. So please leave." Mrs. Robinson gestured towards the door and held it.
"Mrs. Robinson, I thank you for everything that you have done. taking me in your home for the last couple of hours until the rain subsided. But finally, I see the rain outside has stopped, and it is time for me to go on my way." With a wave of the hand the white girl gently let herself out of the house. Making sure that the door did not slam on the way out. Mrs. Robinson watched her dissappear down the street into the darkness through her window.
"Crazy ass white girls." she muttered to herself. "Tonya! Get in here and vacuum the living room. Its a mess! And don't ask me no questions about that crazy ass white girl."
A few blocks down the road, Heather was approached by a small group of kids.
"Hey foxy mama, what are you doing here in our hood? Are you here to buy some weed? Some cocaine?"
Heather, afraid as would any teenaged white girl would be in the situation, looked up from the ground and into the eyes of the dealer and asked, "Do you have any tapeworms?"
November 19, 2005
the Alpha and Omega
Alone
Add
Multiple
Organize
Music
Rhythm
Life
Instinct
Man
Thought
Murder
Lies
Guilt
God
Guilt
Lies
Chaos
What else does the day have to offer?
Live everyday like it is the last and
Sleep no longer.
Add
Multiple
Organize
Music
Rhythm
Life
Instinct
Man
Thought
Murder
Lies
Guilt
God
Guilt
Lies
Chaos
What else does the day have to offer?
Live everyday like it is the last and
Sleep no longer.
November 18, 2005
people who design the yearbooks
After work the people at my job, who work in the air conditioned offices high above, like to drink at the local bar called 'the Angry Scallion'. I've never been invited to attend before until today.
I said, "Sure, why not?"
Being a man who likes his booze, I was never the type to miss a drinking opportunity. Also, the social gathering would be a good start, in my quest to change the way I am percieved at work. I've been labled weird many times because I am not much of a talker. Especially when there is nothing to be said. I'm not into bullshitting. But I am not 'weird' and I want to show that. A relaxed social situation was what I needed. The hot female colleagues were a bonus.
When work was over, I did my last remaining chores at the shipyard and said fairwell to the other uninvited employees. Suckers. Then I walked over to the Angry Scallion. Although the name of the pub makes the place sound like a dive joint, in actuality, it is a nice place for the ladies to relax. Painted in pastel colors and lit with, I forget the name of those fucking lights, I call them christmas lights. I entered slowly scanning the dim room for my co-workers. Not sure if they were there or not because they get off an hour before I do. Lucky for me, they were still there, a group of six people.
"Tom! You came! Let me introduce you to Bob, Janet, Denise, Harry,...", the girl speaking was Latasha, a black beauty of a woman whose looks I have been appreciating from a distance since I started working at the shipyard 8 years ago. As she was making the introductions, she gestured slowly clockwise to the occupants of the table. "...and Marie... did I forget anybody? Me? But of course, you know me."
"Hey everyone."
"Hi Tom.", they all spoke, almost in unison. I was appreciative of the attention. I pulled up a chair and ordered a beer from the waitress and they got back into what they were doing before I had arrived, which happened to be off-the-cusp trivia questions. They were very knowledgeable. All of the questions came from the top of their heads. Most of the questions revolved around old televsion shows and movies.
After a few questions, I realized that I was not very good at this game.
"What was the name of all of Roseanne's kids on Roseanne?"
"Ooh, I know this one. Darlene, Becky, and DJ."
"You are correct!"
"I have one! What show, that is on the air now, is filmed on the set where 'the Burbs' was filmed?"
"That is an easy one, Desperate Housewives."
I did not have a clue to any of these questions. Yeah, I was familiar with the shows, but not the details. And in the process of trying to listen to the questions and trying to figure them out, I became conscious of the fact that I was becoming very quiet. I was becoming the anti-social character that I disliked. I had to come up with a question of my own.
"Hey guys, I have a trivia question for you. In Rocky II, what did Rocky say when he could not catch the chicken?"
Silence. They were animated in excitement a few seconds ago, but my question seemed to have quelled that excitement. I thought for sure that someone would know the answer to this one. Afterall, Rocky was such an icon. All the quotes from that film is etched in stone somewhere.
"Nope, don't know that one.", said Janet.
Ok, maybe the ladies would not know the answer to this one, but the guys should definitely know.
"Nope, don't know that one either. What is it?"
Defeated in my attempt to connect, I revealed the answer to be, "I feel like a Kentucky Fried idiot." The trick to a good trivia question is to not stump, it is to be able to make a question that people can answer, but after a moment of thought. The questions are there to help people feel closer through a common understanding. At this task I failed.
After a moment of silence, someone else had a question that got the table buzzing with excitement again. Glad that the table moved on, I started to listen to the questions and answers again, astonished on how little that I knew. But again, I became dissatisfied with the character I was becoming. How am I ever going to meet girls like this? The gathering will end soon, and sure I met Janet, Denise, and what the fuck her name is, but when this is over we would all part ways as if we never met. I needed another question.
I belted, "In Total Recall, what did Arnold say when the guy he was fighting, Richter, had his arms torn off in the elevator and fell to his death?"
Silence. I almost predicted this outcome because this question was harder than the Rocky one, but it was all I had.
I asked, "Did you all see the movie?"
"No."
"Yeah, I've seen it, but I don't remember that part."
"What did he say? Tom."
"He said, 'See you at the party Richter!' "
"Oh, I kind of remember that." was what someone said, Latasha I believed, and then the gathering adjourned.
Everybody parted ways and the night ended right there. Maybe they were happy, but I thought the night ended on a sour note. I thought perhaps I have become this WEIRD anti-social character because I am out of touch with the current cultural patterns or something. Maybe I am just getting old, but I were all relatively the same age. However, it was hard to deny that something was fundamentally different between us.
I am not an action buff or anything, I picked the questions because they belonged to the films that I grew up watching. The films that I watched repeatedly until I was able to memorize everything. Rocky, Rambo, Terminator, Total Recall, Robocop, and a slew of horror movies were the movies I grew up watching.
Those are all well known films. I know it is not me. Maybe I am over analyzing. But deep down inside...
---Tom -peace out
I said, "Sure, why not?"
Being a man who likes his booze, I was never the type to miss a drinking opportunity. Also, the social gathering would be a good start, in my quest to change the way I am percieved at work. I've been labled weird many times because I am not much of a talker. Especially when there is nothing to be said. I'm not into bullshitting. But I am not 'weird' and I want to show that. A relaxed social situation was what I needed. The hot female colleagues were a bonus.
When work was over, I did my last remaining chores at the shipyard and said fairwell to the other uninvited employees. Suckers. Then I walked over to the Angry Scallion. Although the name of the pub makes the place sound like a dive joint, in actuality, it is a nice place for the ladies to relax. Painted in pastel colors and lit with, I forget the name of those fucking lights, I call them christmas lights. I entered slowly scanning the dim room for my co-workers. Not sure if they were there or not because they get off an hour before I do. Lucky for me, they were still there, a group of six people.
"Tom! You came! Let me introduce you to Bob, Janet, Denise, Harry,...", the girl speaking was Latasha, a black beauty of a woman whose looks I have been appreciating from a distance since I started working at the shipyard 8 years ago. As she was making the introductions, she gestured slowly clockwise to the occupants of the table. "...and Marie... did I forget anybody? Me? But of course, you know me."
"Hey everyone."
"Hi Tom.", they all spoke, almost in unison. I was appreciative of the attention. I pulled up a chair and ordered a beer from the waitress and they got back into what they were doing before I had arrived, which happened to be off-the-cusp trivia questions. They were very knowledgeable. All of the questions came from the top of their heads. Most of the questions revolved around old televsion shows and movies.
After a few questions, I realized that I was not very good at this game.
"What was the name of all of Roseanne's kids on Roseanne?"
"Ooh, I know this one. Darlene, Becky, and DJ."
"You are correct!"
"I have one! What show, that is on the air now, is filmed on the set where 'the Burbs' was filmed?"
"That is an easy one, Desperate Housewives."
I did not have a clue to any of these questions. Yeah, I was familiar with the shows, but not the details. And in the process of trying to listen to the questions and trying to figure them out, I became conscious of the fact that I was becoming very quiet. I was becoming the anti-social character that I disliked. I had to come up with a question of my own.
"Hey guys, I have a trivia question for you. In Rocky II, what did Rocky say when he could not catch the chicken?"
Silence. They were animated in excitement a few seconds ago, but my question seemed to have quelled that excitement. I thought for sure that someone would know the answer to this one. Afterall, Rocky was such an icon. All the quotes from that film is etched in stone somewhere.
"Nope, don't know that one.", said Janet.
Ok, maybe the ladies would not know the answer to this one, but the guys should definitely know.
"Nope, don't know that one either. What is it?"
Defeated in my attempt to connect, I revealed the answer to be, "I feel like a Kentucky Fried idiot." The trick to a good trivia question is to not stump, it is to be able to make a question that people can answer, but after a moment of thought. The questions are there to help people feel closer through a common understanding. At this task I failed.
After a moment of silence, someone else had a question that got the table buzzing with excitement again. Glad that the table moved on, I started to listen to the questions and answers again, astonished on how little that I knew. But again, I became dissatisfied with the character I was becoming. How am I ever going to meet girls like this? The gathering will end soon, and sure I met Janet, Denise, and what the fuck her name is, but when this is over we would all part ways as if we never met. I needed another question.
I belted, "In Total Recall, what did Arnold say when the guy he was fighting, Richter, had his arms torn off in the elevator and fell to his death?"
Silence. I almost predicted this outcome because this question was harder than the Rocky one, but it was all I had.
I asked, "Did you all see the movie?"
"No."
"Yeah, I've seen it, but I don't remember that part."
"What did he say? Tom."
"He said, 'See you at the party Richter!' "
"Oh, I kind of remember that." was what someone said, Latasha I believed, and then the gathering adjourned.
Everybody parted ways and the night ended right there. Maybe they were happy, but I thought the night ended on a sour note. I thought perhaps I have become this WEIRD anti-social character because I am out of touch with the current cultural patterns or something. Maybe I am just getting old, but I were all relatively the same age. However, it was hard to deny that something was fundamentally different between us.
I am not an action buff or anything, I picked the questions because they belonged to the films that I grew up watching. The films that I watched repeatedly until I was able to memorize everything. Rocky, Rambo, Terminator, Total Recall, Robocop, and a slew of horror movies were the movies I grew up watching.
Those are all well known films. I know it is not me. Maybe I am over analyzing. But deep down inside...
---Tom -peace out
November 13, 2005
eh?
collapse prediction
chemicals won't fail
silence before the crash
experienced follower
care about being indifferent
move! don't be stationairy
hunt the meek
gather the trivial
motionless buffoon
speechless clown
chemicals won't fail
silence before the crash
experienced follower
care about being indifferent
move! don't be stationairy
hunt the meek
gather the trivial
motionless buffoon
speechless clown
October 24, 2005
extra ordinary
Did you know, if you stared at the reflection of your eyes dead on, a hypnosis happens? A game I liked to play while brushing my teeth is to see how long I could last staring into my eyes. I normally don't last long, but there have been times when I ventured to go farther, and after about the one minute mark, reality begins to lose its grip, and I back out. Eventually, one day, almost a year ago today, I ventured further than I had ever ventured before.I will attempt to describe the sensation of being hypnotized by one's own eyes. First the reflection is viewed as normal. And then slowly, pieces will begin to fade away from the periphery. Fading away in this order; room, body, face. All that would remain in sight are disembodied eyes. The sensation of floating down a tunnel is experienced. Disembodied eyes staring into disembodied eyes floating down a tunnel.
My experience has always been traumatic, for my eyes seem unpleasant to peer into for that long. Its like looking into the eyes of the devil. A task not for the timid.
At the end of the tunnel, I saw this tree. The one I stand before now. Swimming in a monotone soup of chaos. The tree came forth and danced before my eyes. And whispers in my head, transmissions of notions and ideas, without the transmission of language.
I knew the tree existed in the real world. I witnessed it sprout and growth in a second of my time. When I exited the trance, I sought this tree. And, doubted my mind, as my life fell apart, when my mission came to an end.
In the tree's bark, I could see movement. The patterns undulating like the reflected waves in a pond. It was subtle, but unmistakable, for it was all along the length of the tree.
What is happening? I put my hand on it and could feel the bark's rhythm. Its doing something incredible. What specifically, I could not tell.
"WHO IS THERE?"
I hesitated.
"DO YOU HAVE THE CURE?"
"What cure? I don't know what you speak about. I saw you before, and came to find you."
In the tree's bark, I could see movement. The patterns undulating like the reflected waves in a pond. It was subtle, but unmistakable, for it was all along the length of the tree.
What is happening? I put my hand on it and could feel the bark's rhythm. Its doing something incredible. What specifically, I could not tell.
"WHO IS THERE?"
I hesitated.
"DO YOU HAVE THE CURE?"
"What cure? I don't know what you speak about. I saw you before, and came to find you."
"WHERE DID YOU SEE ME?"
"In a vision I had."
"A VISION?"
"Yes, a vision. Why do you need a cure? Are you sick?"
"A VISION?"
"Yes a vision."
At that moment the tree snapped in half as if struck by a powerfull bolt of lightning. I knew I had to be confident, but the confidence snapped with the tree.
At that moment the tree snapped in half as if struck by a powerfull bolt of lightning. I knew I had to be confident, but the confidence snapped with the tree.
October 21, 2005
Mystery Solved?
"Mrs. Eleanor Tyler, could you describe for me the circumstances surrounding the dissappearance of your husband, ah," the questioner glanced down at his notes, pausing momentarilly from his back and forth pacing. "ah, your husband Mr. Jeremiah Tyler?"
"The circumstances. Yes, the circumstances. That morning, Jeremy told me he was going to go to the store and buy a pack of cigarettes and a copy of the Daily News. He did that every Sunday before church so I thought nothing of it. Of course, he never made it back...", Mrs Tyler, stiffling tears, sat crosslegged on an expensive antique chair, holding a cup of tea. All around her, a small group of investigators rummaged through her house. Reading letters, snapping pictures, doing anything to find a clue that could lead them in the right direction.
"What time did he leave?"
"I don't know... 9:30. I was getting dressed for church, and I remember looking at the alarm clock, it said 930."
"9:30. How long does it normally take for you to get dressed for church Mrs. Tyler?"
"Twenty, thirty minutes...maybe."
"Is your husband normally back by the time you are finished?"
"Yes. It doesn't take Jeremy longer than ten, fifteen minutes to return from the store. It's not that far from our house."
"Which store is that?"
"7-11."
"Which one?"
"The one down the street, it is um, like five blocks up 5th there, and then you turn right on, whats the name of that street... Ferndale. It is two blocks from there." More note jotting.
"Mrs. Tyler-"
"You can call me Ellen.", she interupted.
"Ok, Ellen, when you were getting dressed for church and Jeremy did not return from the store, what did you do?"
"At first, I did not notice that he wa-"
"You didn't notice Mr. Tyler was miising?", the questioner was obviously trying his best to sound incredulous.
"Mr...ah, detective-"
"Detective John Foster." The young man walked into view of the middle aged woman and flashed a slight smile while making eye contact. "But you could call me John." Ellen Tyler, despite being in her middle forties, was still an attractive woman. Her face showed some signs of aging, but her body was still firm, as if she worked out everyday The detective appreciated the woman's good looks but kept thinking about how much better she could look if she wasn't a snob.
Blushing from the intimate exchange, Ellen continued, "John, my husband and I have been married for over 25 years. Our marriage would not have lasted that long if I had freaked out every time Jeremy was a little late coming home."
"So, how late can Jeremy be, before you think anything of it, Ellen?"
"When he did not make it back in time for us to get to church."
"What time was that?"
"Well, church starts at 11 o'clock. It takes twenty minutes to drive there. I'd say, Jeremy was gone for well over an hour, by the time I thought something was wrong."
"Did Jeremy carry a cell phone with him?"
"No, I don't think so. He has one, a Nokia, he normally carries it everywhere, but on the weekends he turns it off and leaves it, over there, on the kitchen counter, connected to the charger."
"I see. Has Jeremy done this before? Has he disappeared and then returned a few days later?"
"I don't understand what you are getting to..."
"It is a yes and no question Ellen. Did he, or didn't he? Some men like to have affairs with other women, some men rent hotel rooms and do drugs. I am not saying that Mr. Tyler is one of those kinds of people, but whatever you could tell me, might help bring him back."
"No. Jeremy is a respectable member of this community. He is hardworking and responsible-"
"When did you report this to the police?"
"On Tuesday. Why?"
"If Jeremy has never gone missing before, Mrs. Ellen, then why did it take you two days to report him missing?"
"Like I said, me and Jeremy have been married for-"
"Bullshit! I call bullshit!"
With that declaration, the victorian era room became deafenly quiet. The busy investigators in the room froze in place and then, after a few seconds, returned to their work.
Perplexed, Eleanor Tyler sat, wide-eyed and mouth agape, looking at the detective. Then after a small moment said, "Detective, I think you are out of line. This interview is ov-"
"I'm sorry, Ellen. Forgive me for my outburst, for I have tourettes."
"Tour....what?"
"Tourette's syndrome. I have the inability to hold back impulses. Its not what I wanted to say, it just came out."
Ellen glanced around the room to see if anyone else heard what the detective was saying, Not sure if he was telling the truth or not. "I forgive you. Are you ok? Does that interfere with what you do?"
"No, not at all. Believe me, Ellen, up here," pointing to his temple, "everything is just fine. Tourettes does not prevent from doing my job and doing it well. So continue, where were we? Missing, yeah, has Jeremy ever goine missing before?"
"I already told you! No!"
"Bullshit! I call Buuulll!"
After another long awkward pause, Ellen asked, "Is it the Tourettes again?"
"No, that was me."
"We found this." Detective ....
SNOOOZE.
"The circumstances. Yes, the circumstances. That morning, Jeremy told me he was going to go to the store and buy a pack of cigarettes and a copy of the Daily News. He did that every Sunday before church so I thought nothing of it. Of course, he never made it back...", Mrs Tyler, stiffling tears, sat crosslegged on an expensive antique chair, holding a cup of tea. All around her, a small group of investigators rummaged through her house. Reading letters, snapping pictures, doing anything to find a clue that could lead them in the right direction.
"What time did he leave?"
"I don't know... 9:30. I was getting dressed for church, and I remember looking at the alarm clock, it said 930."
"9:30. How long does it normally take for you to get dressed for church Mrs. Tyler?"
"Twenty, thirty minutes...maybe."
"Is your husband normally back by the time you are finished?"
"Yes. It doesn't take Jeremy longer than ten, fifteen minutes to return from the store. It's not that far from our house."
"Which store is that?"
"7-11."
"Which one?"
"The one down the street, it is um, like five blocks up 5th there, and then you turn right on, whats the name of that street... Ferndale. It is two blocks from there." More note jotting.
"Mrs. Tyler-"
"You can call me Ellen.", she interupted.
"Ok, Ellen, when you were getting dressed for church and Jeremy did not return from the store, what did you do?"
"At first, I did not notice that he wa-"
"You didn't notice Mr. Tyler was miising?", the questioner was obviously trying his best to sound incredulous.
"Mr...ah, detective-"
"Detective John Foster." The young man walked into view of the middle aged woman and flashed a slight smile while making eye contact. "But you could call me John." Ellen Tyler, despite being in her middle forties, was still an attractive woman. Her face showed some signs of aging, but her body was still firm, as if she worked out everyday The detective appreciated the woman's good looks but kept thinking about how much better she could look if she wasn't a snob.
Blushing from the intimate exchange, Ellen continued, "John, my husband and I have been married for over 25 years. Our marriage would not have lasted that long if I had freaked out every time Jeremy was a little late coming home."
"So, how late can Jeremy be, before you think anything of it, Ellen?"
"When he did not make it back in time for us to get to church."
"What time was that?"
"Well, church starts at 11 o'clock. It takes twenty minutes to drive there. I'd say, Jeremy was gone for well over an hour, by the time I thought something was wrong."
"Did Jeremy carry a cell phone with him?"
"No, I don't think so. He has one, a Nokia, he normally carries it everywhere, but on the weekends he turns it off and leaves it, over there, on the kitchen counter, connected to the charger."
"I see. Has Jeremy done this before? Has he disappeared and then returned a few days later?"
"I don't understand what you are getting to..."
"It is a yes and no question Ellen. Did he, or didn't he? Some men like to have affairs with other women, some men rent hotel rooms and do drugs. I am not saying that Mr. Tyler is one of those kinds of people, but whatever you could tell me, might help bring him back."
"No. Jeremy is a respectable member of this community. He is hardworking and responsible-"
"When did you report this to the police?"
"On Tuesday. Why?"
"If Jeremy has never gone missing before, Mrs. Ellen, then why did it take you two days to report him missing?"
"Like I said, me and Jeremy have been married for-"
"Bullshit! I call bullshit!"
With that declaration, the victorian era room became deafenly quiet. The busy investigators in the room froze in place and then, after a few seconds, returned to their work.
Perplexed, Eleanor Tyler sat, wide-eyed and mouth agape, looking at the detective. Then after a small moment said, "Detective, I think you are out of line. This interview is ov-"
"I'm sorry, Ellen. Forgive me for my outburst, for I have tourettes."
"Tour....what?"
"Tourette's syndrome. I have the inability to hold back impulses. Its not what I wanted to say, it just came out."
Ellen glanced around the room to see if anyone else heard what the detective was saying, Not sure if he was telling the truth or not. "I forgive you. Are you ok? Does that interfere with what you do?"
"No, not at all. Believe me, Ellen, up here," pointing to his temple, "everything is just fine. Tourettes does not prevent from doing my job and doing it well. So continue, where were we? Missing, yeah, has Jeremy ever goine missing before?"
"I already told you! No!"
"Bullshit! I call Buuulll!"
After another long awkward pause, Ellen asked, "Is it the Tourettes again?"
"No, that was me."
"We found this." Detective ....
SNOOOZE.
October 16, 2005
Booze
"Don't you drink?"
"Booze?"
"Yes, booze."
"No, I swore off of that stuff."
"When was this?"
"Thre... two weeks ago."
"How is that working for you?"
"Pretty good."
"Thats good."
"Yep."
"Cigarettes too?"
"No, I still smoke."
"Cool."
"Yep...although that is next in line you know."
"Well, don't we all?"
"Yep."
"Good luck with that."
"Fuck you."
"Excuse me?"
"Fuck you."
"What?"
"Fuck you."
"Why are you sa-"
"Fuck you."
"Fuck y-"
"Fuck you."
"No, fuck y-"
"Fuck you."
"Booze?"
"Yes, booze."
"No, I swore off of that stuff."
"When was this?"
"Thre... two weeks ago."
"How is that working for you?"
"Pretty good."
"Thats good."
"Yep."
"Cigarettes too?"
"No, I still smoke."
"Cool."
"Yep...although that is next in line you know."
"Well, don't we all?"
"Yep."
"Good luck with that."
"Fuck you."
"Excuse me?"
"Fuck you."
"What?"
"Fuck you."
"Why are you sa-"
"Fuck you."
"Fuck y-"
"Fuck you."
"No, fuck y-"
"Fuck you."
October 14, 2005
thursday meets friday
Daylight lamps and 24 hour gyms. In a television trance. No food before bed, but beer is ok. Dogs barking. Trains passing. Twinges of pain in arm, no need to google it... Make sure to brush teeth when the time comes. Hair is in the sink. I can taste my lungs. Work tomorrow. Insert ending here as long as it is tragic.
October 07, 2005
Giants
Every 50 years, the giants come to destroy the village.
The village's inhabitants toil, from sunrise until sundown, growing the tedious crops they need to survive. Problems that plague most civilizations, such as famine, disease, and murder, were the least of their concerns, because twice every one hundred years, their home is annihilated by a race of other-worldy giants.
During the course of many years, they tried to prevent these attacks with a myriad of different approaches. But each plan, no matter how genius it was in design or cleverness, ultimately failed. The once proud people became powerless and trivial. The only thing as certain as the giants was death.
Several times the village was rebuilt in a strategic location. Each location was unique in how its terrain was able to conceal or prevent access. One location was buried many miles deep inside the green forest, its location was only known to a few outsiders. Nevertheless, it was found and destroyed. Another was built on the side of a cliff in a deep canyon. To the villagers surpise, the giants climbed very well and some punched in through the rock behind them. The present village is located not far from the original location. It resides in the fertile valleys hugging the long snake river.
The villagers go about their daily chores fearing when the next attack shall come. Only the oldest villagers remember any of the previous attacks. And the young ones find the stories hard to believe. But the pictures painted on the walls of the temple, illustrate quite vividly the past. Giants, as tall as the trees, and about as wide as the river, made even the toughest warriors quiver with fear. Their triangular shaped heads had eyes that glowed like the sun. Their mouths, set in a permanent scowl, shot fire into huge plumes.
Conventional weaponry, such as arrows and axes, proved useless against the giant's thick metal hides. New specialty weapons were built, some massive in scale, and all of them failed. The heartbreak experienced by some inventors after seeing their life's work dismantled like a child's toy, was unbearable. Many chose to go down with their creations.
Days before an attack, the approaching giants could be heard. A frightening, unnatural sound that reverberates from the mountains , through the trees, and eventually making it to the the village. It is first heard as a low oscillating noise similar to a strong gust of wind but not quite, and then, as the giants near, it is heard as a deep rumble that engulfs and muffles all attempts to converse. The villagers flee into the hills that surround their valley as soon after the first sound is heard. The hills provide a bird's eye view of the assault.
One by one, the giants emerge from a neighboring line of trees. And quickly begin to stomp the village into pieces. And when all is destroyed, they stomp the pieces into pieces.
While they flattened the village, their glowing yellow eyes stared, fixed to the villagers who watched from the hills. They stared a gaze that never broke contact. As they violently stomped through the debris of the once proud village, they seemed almost oblivious to where they stepped. The villagers knew from the stories passed down through the generations that the giants would be satisfied with taking the village and should leave them unharmed, as long as they did not interfere with their business.
When the giants were done with their bidding, they stood still and the world became silent. For what would seem like an eternity but was actually only a few minutes, they stared across the valley up into the hills at the cowering villagers, as if to gloat. As if to say, 'Look and admire our power over you.'
Some villagers fainted. And then a booming noise came forth. It was hard to discern at first but became more evident as the sound of laughter. The giants were laughing at them. One giant noticed a herd of cows feeding, and kicked all of them with one kick into the river.
Then away they went, with gargantuan strides, quickly disappearing into the horizon.
October 06, 2005
A liitle help.
It was a thoughtless mistake. Two people in a car. One to drive and the other to navigate. I was not mad, when I pulled the car over and grabbed the map from your small hands. Because it is not your fault that you lack the navigational skills needed to traverse these lands. Every now and then, I look over and see you sitting there in the passenger seat, trying to read those maps. I see it, when you look puzzled at all of those lines, that symbolize roads. Scouring the same ones over and over thinking that you understand it, but then looking some more when you know you do not. Over and over, the roads start to tangle.
I know it really takes a man to understand locations and such so you, being a woman, are off the map reading hook.
However, though I dare not say it to your face less I upset your delicate temperment... The only times your inability makes me mad, is when we land many miles past an intended exit. And when asked about it, you say, "Oh yeah, I saw it when we passed it." Speak up. If you know we are going the wrong way, speak up. Does that make sense to you?
Things you can work on. If you want to get better.
Try to look when I am not. Yeah, I should be looking... but a little help would also be nice. I mean what else do you have to do there? Listen to music? Smoke cigarettes? You can indeed look in the vanity mirror and still have time to glance at where we are. I could easily navigate these higways, freeways, and interstates on my own, but I am not on my own, I am riding with you. And I don't want my reliance on you to be a handicap.
Another thing.
Try to care.
Sometimes, I think that you want us to get lost. I know that deep down, you don't want us to get lost, but the indifference is bothersome. Is it truly all my responsibility? Yes, I am the driver, but aren't we sitting side by side, in this transportation vehicle together? Where I go, you go too. If I am lost, you are too.
And right now we are lost.
But not after a few moments, because the map is in my hands.
October 04, 2005
Impulsive Asshole
I fumbled with the words. I tried to talk, but all that came out resembelled gibberish. I lacked the smoothness to tell her how I felt. I couldn't describe the magic that was in her singing and guitar playing, nor could I describe her beauty that was like a star filled....fuck it. All I could say was, "Good show."
And her response was to smile and say, "Thanks for coming."
"No, problem." No problem at all. I didn't even introduce myself.
I exited the smoky bar and walked along the dead leaves that filled the streets. The smell reminded me of all the times I spent playing afterschool as a kid. For some reason all I remember is the fall.
All the neighborhood college slash punk kids were flying about on their track bikes. Maybe to some party. A party where I would not know anyone because all of my friends were too old to party. And I am old too, and I still live in a college town.
I picked up a stick and threw it into some punk rock kid's spokes. And he went flying into a telephone pole. I bet he was in a rock band. I am not in a rock band, I dabble with the guitar, but never took any lessons.
"What the fuck man. That was not cool."
A bunch of kids smoking pot were hanging out on a porch and saw the whole thing. shit
One ran up to the unconscious kid and checked on him.
"He is still breathing. Someone better call and ambulance....and the police."
"Fuck that, lets get that asshole."
As I heard that, and with my adrenaline pumping, I ran away as fast as I could.
I flew into my house locking the door behind me. I peaked out of my front window, looking through a small crackin the curtains. I saw the kids, on their bikes, one kid through his down and found a brick. I wondered what he was doing and then backed away as the brick came smashing in through the glass.
"Fucking asshole. I am going to burn your fucking place down."
"I'm sorry guys...it was a mistake, an accident. I did not mean to... "
"That is bullshit! Come out asshole, think you are tough now?"
The police came at that moment and arrested all of the kids and that kid that "fell" on the telephone pole was alright too. I was charged with something, I forget. My dad paid for the lawyer, top notch too, and I was found innocent.
A year later at a different bar, I saw that same songstress again. When I approached her this time, I was ready to introduce myself. I walked up with confidence and said, "Hey, My name i--"
"Your name is Nate, right?"
"Yes! Who told you?"
She shook her head and said, "Not cool man, not cool."
And her response was to smile and say, "Thanks for coming."
"No, problem." No problem at all. I didn't even introduce myself.
I exited the smoky bar and walked along the dead leaves that filled the streets. The smell reminded me of all the times I spent playing afterschool as a kid. For some reason all I remember is the fall.
All the neighborhood college slash punk kids were flying about on their track bikes. Maybe to some party. A party where I would not know anyone because all of my friends were too old to party. And I am old too, and I still live in a college town.
I picked up a stick and threw it into some punk rock kid's spokes. And he went flying into a telephone pole. I bet he was in a rock band. I am not in a rock band, I dabble with the guitar, but never took any lessons.
"What the fuck man. That was not cool."
A bunch of kids smoking pot were hanging out on a porch and saw the whole thing. shit
One ran up to the unconscious kid and checked on him.
"He is still breathing. Someone better call and ambulance....and the police."
"Fuck that, lets get that asshole."
As I heard that, and with my adrenaline pumping, I ran away as fast as I could.
I flew into my house locking the door behind me. I peaked out of my front window, looking through a small crackin the curtains. I saw the kids, on their bikes, one kid through his down and found a brick. I wondered what he was doing and then backed away as the brick came smashing in through the glass.
"Fucking asshole. I am going to burn your fucking place down."
"I'm sorry guys...it was a mistake, an accident. I did not mean to... "
"That is bullshit! Come out asshole, think you are tough now?"
The police came at that moment and arrested all of the kids and that kid that "fell" on the telephone pole was alright too. I was charged with something, I forget. My dad paid for the lawyer, top notch too, and I was found innocent.
A year later at a different bar, I saw that same songstress again. When I approached her this time, I was ready to introduce myself. I walked up with confidence and said, "Hey, My name i--"
"Your name is Nate, right?"
"Yes! Who told you?"
She shook her head and said, "Not cool man, not cool."
October 03, 2005
running
He scrambled inside and shut the door behind him. Soaking in sweat and struggling to catch his breath, he leaned hard against the door to hold back the death.
"Did you bring any food?", said a teenage girl from within the dark government office.
"Yes."
"Can I have some?"
"No."
"Then I will have to kill you."
"You could try."
"I will.... do it, unless you give me some of your food."
"You put on a brave face, little girl." brandishing his small sized revolver.
"Did you bring any food?", said a teenage girl from within the dark government office.
"Yes."
"Can I have some?"
"No."
"Then I will have to kill you."
"You could try."
"I will.... do it, unless you give me some of your food."
"You put on a brave face, little girl." brandishing his small sized revolver.
October 02, 2005
September 29, 2005
Nightmare
Is it a dream?
Frank fought against the big headed demon.
His sharp sword was ready to cut his enemy apart.
His enemy was no slouch, ready to dispatch frank in one fell swoop. With a force from the cosmos to fuel the demon, it was near invulnerable.
Frank had confidence in his ability on his side. A trained ninja and nfl star quarterback, was cat like in his movements. If he could, somehow, whack this demon, the demon would be destroyed.
When the time came, Frank dodged the demon's assaults, and when he saw his opening he slammed his sword across the demons skull. Everything slowed down in that moment and in the aftermath the demon was unscathed. Frank reared his sword back and slashed the demon in its throat. Nothing. The demon laughed. Frank dropped his sword in disbelief. Realizing he was about to die, he pleaded for his life. 'this demon does not follow the same rules as we (mortals) do.'
The demon spared his life, but made Frank his slave...minion as you will. Frank eager to save his own life said nothing.
Then the demon wanted to tag his ear as a rancher would to cattle, Frank said no... and begged and pleaded...
meanwhile
Mike Mitchell, star pitcher for the Milwaukee Brewers chose death. And thus defeated the demon.
Frank fought against the big headed demon.
His sharp sword was ready to cut his enemy apart.
His enemy was no slouch, ready to dispatch frank in one fell swoop. With a force from the cosmos to fuel the demon, it was near invulnerable.
Frank had confidence in his ability on his side. A trained ninja and nfl star quarterback, was cat like in his movements. If he could, somehow, whack this demon, the demon would be destroyed.
When the time came, Frank dodged the demon's assaults, and when he saw his opening he slammed his sword across the demons skull. Everything slowed down in that moment and in the aftermath the demon was unscathed. Frank reared his sword back and slashed the demon in its throat. Nothing. The demon laughed. Frank dropped his sword in disbelief. Realizing he was about to die, he pleaded for his life. 'this demon does not follow the same rules as we (mortals) do.'
The demon spared his life, but made Frank his slave...minion as you will. Frank eager to save his own life said nothing.
Then the demon wanted to tag his ear as a rancher would to cattle, Frank said no... and begged and pleaded...
meanwhile
Mike Mitchell, star pitcher for the Milwaukee Brewers chose death. And thus defeated the demon.
September 23, 2005
fiction----Ricardo's Apartment.
Coughing violently, Ricardo Sanchez awoke in a panic. A disconcerting sound filled the room with a threatening ambience . After a short while, he recognized the sound as the sound coming from his own smoke alarm. His eyes burned as he peered into the darkness that had engulfed his once tastefully designed bedroom. He could see nothing, and still disoriented from the disrupted sleep., Ricardo instinctively rolled out onto the wooden floor where the smoke was less concentrated. He pulled his shirt off of his body and covered his mouth and nose.'Where's the door?', Ricardo thought, crawling about and colliding with the furniture in his studio apartment.
"Calm down hombre or you are going to die in this motherfucker.'
With the adrenaline pumping, it was hard for him to remember the layout of his room. The noises from the fire alarm did not help either, it was adding fuel to the pounding of his heart. Ricardo crawled back to the side of his bed and closed his eyes. Collecting his thoughts, he pictured his location and where it was in relation to the door. In his mind’s eye, is where he finally saw it.
He crawled over to the far left side of the room until he reached the door. His free hand slowly crept up the face of the door and began to unlatch the first of several locks. When all the locks were undone he stood back up into the smoke and pulled the door open with a giant heft and immediately slammed it shut, all within the same motion. In that moment of opening the door, a wall of unbearable heat had hit him and his reflexes did the rest Unsure of his next move, Ricardo slumped down to the floor in a defeated posture.
----------------
Ricardo, estranged father of seven, wept quietly to himself.
'I don't want to die like this man...I am too young to die.'
As he sobbed, he came to a terrifying conclusion.
'The window, its the only way out.'
Ricardo lives on the fifth floor of an aging apartment building in Brooklyn, New Yok. His side of the building lacked a fire escape, a feature Ricardo actually liked because it provided, 'better security.' He knew a jump from the fifth floor would be suicide, but to him it was either; do that or burn, and burning was not an option.
He made his way over to the window in a roundabout way. Bumping into his pool table and then a lamp that he knocked over. When reaching the window, he dropped his rolled up t shirt, and began to pull up with both hands. After a few well placed pulls, the window slid open in a herky-jerky pattern. The smoke in the room poured out through the opening, finding its path of least resistance. As he leaned out, he looked up into the sky at the smoke rising.
Out in the cool night's air. RIcardo made deep breathes to replensih his oxygen reserves. Feeling the comfort that the night provided, all in the world seemed well at the momen. He escaped into the delusion, and in the process, ignored the growing threat that was behind him. Behind a fire grew unrelentlessly.
'I could wait here until a ladder truck rescues me. that sounds like a good plan.' he thought as his assessing eyes opened and peered onto the street below.. To his dismay, there wasn’t any fire trucks sight. Only a medium sized crowd of onlookers.
'Shit', he thought to himself.
Exhausted with his energy reserves depleted, he flopped his head into his arms. 'I'll just have to wait here. That's all I can do.' In the distance the sound of sirens grew.
---------------------------------
The situation did not change much when the fire trucks finally pulled up to the burning building. They sprang instantly into action. Pulling hoses and connecting them to hydrants. Pushing the crowd back into what they deemed a safe distance. They also started to raise a ladder towards the trapped man. Looking down, Ricardo could see a news crew filming the whole thing.
'Shit, now everyone is going to see this.', he thought, embarrassed at the possibility of being on the news. He reached back inside and grabbed his shirt to cover up his gut. He also smoothed his hair down.
All the while, fire seeped up through the wood behind him. Camouflaged by the smoke, the fire began to take control of the bachelor’s pad. Ricardo did not notice, until there was an increase in the amount of heat hitting his backside. He glanced back and saw the light from the flames peaking out through moving holes in the smoke.
‘Shit!’. he cursed to himself.
He pulled one leg out and sat on the window sill as he would if riding a horse. When the heat on the inner leg became unbearable, he pulled that one out too. The position that resulted in him sitting on the very edge of the window. To him and the laws od physics, the position was awkward. He began to slip forward some.
He could see a ladder rising from fown below. A fire man was on it, ready to rescue.
'Lord, if you are there, now would be the time. Now would be the time.'....a silent prayer from the devout catholic. He heard some shouts from the street.
"Don't jump!" "Be calm, we are coming to get you!"
------------------------------------
Down below, the crowds saw a desperate man leaning from the edge of his window. A solitary figure, surrounded by a billowing cloud of smoke. They told themselves, they did not want this man to fall, yet they kept watching with an unconscious morbid hope they he would. And then they saw the flames burst forth from behind him like something only witnessed in movies, bright and horrific. The man’s arms coming behind his head as if to protect himself. And then, he fell. Past a rising ladder in the foreground and behind the tops of some sidewalk lined trees. Many looked away and many did not. ‘Where did the man go?’ they thought. “He’s over there!”, exclaimed an over-exuberant child. And they all looked and saw the crumpled body of what was once a man.
---------------------------------
"Shit, that hurt like a motherfucker!", exclaimed the body.
The crowd, fell back a few steps. The body slowly arose from the grassy patch, where it had fallen. A rescue worker rushed to his side and told him to remain still.
"Get the fuck off me!" Ricardo said pulling away. And wincing in pain as he slowly brushed the dirt from his clothes.
He slowly craned his neck to look up at his apartment. Pain shot through his neck, but he managed to get a glimpse of his window as fire shot out of it. Without a thought in his head, no opinion of what had just occurred. Unable to grasp, the fact that it was near impossible feat that was done. He looked away, easing the pain in his neck. He limped over to the rescue worker he had shunned earlier and let her work on the burns on his back. Sitting in the back of an ambulance he leaned up against the wall and fell into a deep sleep.
His last thoughts were, "All my shit is gone."
September 21, 2005
Don't fall for email scams...like me.
I received several emails from 'paypal' recently. I deleted them as normal. Usually, it is some form of unsolicited advertisement. However, one of them caught my eye before I had the chance to delete it...If only I could relive that moment because that proved to be a mistake. The email said that my account security was in jeopardy. Some unauthorized "third" party was accessing my account. I have to investigate this right? Logical, right? I checked the email address to make sure it was from paypal. And yes indeed, it seemed to be. I then clicked on the link it provided.
Little did I know about the twisted universe I had just entered..
Got to the page and entered my log-in and password. After that, I was brought to another page, which said that for security purposes, they needed me to re-enter my credit card information. I was a little leery of doing this, but remember this site looked alot like the real paypal website. So like a fool, I filled out the form until i got to "enter your ATM PIN for our review services"
...thats when I froze
I thought, "hey, that is not right'. at the time it did not hit me, that what i was actually looking at, was one of those fraud sites. remember, at the time, i just gotten back from work, at 2am, and I was super tired. The next mistake I made was that i clicked on the cancel button...which probably sent all of my card information over. Plus I included that 3 digit number from the back of the credit card...not the pin, but just as bad.
After I clicked on cancel the website just refreshed. I thought that was weird. So I clicked on all of the links it had there and they all took me to the same spot. then i looked up at the domain name, it was not paypal at all. Then I knew. I have become a vicitm of the internet fraud machine.
you can see these assholes in action (link may not work anymore)
if you want to go there yourself. i do not know if a gremlin or virus or something else jumps from their servers to your computer, but check it out.
http://www1.phda.org/p/update.html
I went and took care of everything with the bank and paypal and several other sites. i actually closed my paypal account, considering the fact that i never used it much. overall, the whole scenario was a fucking pain and if somehow i could find out who this asshole or these assholes were, i feel as if though i could beat them with a baseball bat or something worse...you see, i am not an angry person normally, but... well, I guess I am always angry.
Little did I know about the twisted universe I had just entered..
Got to the page and entered my log-in and password. After that, I was brought to another page, which said that for security purposes, they needed me to re-enter my credit card information. I was a little leery of doing this, but remember this site looked alot like the real paypal website. So like a fool, I filled out the form until i got to "enter your ATM PIN for our review services"
...thats when I froze
I thought, "hey, that is not right'. at the time it did not hit me, that what i was actually looking at, was one of those fraud sites. remember, at the time, i just gotten back from work, at 2am, and I was super tired. The next mistake I made was that i clicked on the cancel button...which probably sent all of my card information over. Plus I included that 3 digit number from the back of the credit card...not the pin, but just as bad.
After I clicked on cancel the website just refreshed. I thought that was weird. So I clicked on all of the links it had there and they all took me to the same spot. then i looked up at the domain name, it was not paypal at all. Then I knew. I have become a vicitm of the internet fraud machine.
you can see these assholes in action (link may not work anymore)
if you want to go there yourself. i do not know if a gremlin or virus or something else jumps from their servers to your computer, but check it out.
http://www1.phda.org/p/update.html
I went and took care of everything with the bank and paypal and several other sites. i actually closed my paypal account, considering the fact that i never used it much. overall, the whole scenario was a fucking pain and if somehow i could find out who this asshole or these assholes were, i feel as if though i could beat them with a baseball bat or something worse...you see, i am not an angry person normally, but... well, I guess I am always angry.
September 18, 2005
When did nickels start to look different?
There is no trying in commitment. So I am going to commit to posting as frequently as possible. Shit, that last sentence sounds a lot like trying doesn't it. I am horrible at writing and want to get better and the only way to do that, is to write and rewrite often (write that down kiddies). So if you (the reader) have some constructive criticism, by all means submit a comment. I'm mature enough to quit. Usually I suffer from severe writer's block or whatever, but not now, now I actually have something to write about. or at least I think I do. I had an experience the other day, and I thought 'hey that's weird', and 'hey! I could write about this.' Albeit poorly. But come on. This is the internet...there is a lot of shit.
So let me start my story, after a few years spent living in a debit card delirium, I, for once, had some real money in my possession. And all was well, until I arrived at this fancy restaurant called Chicken Fillet or chic something, that was when I reached into my pocket to give the cashier lady some change. I rummaged through my pockets and found some coins that would suffice. I glanced down at them and started to hand them over, and then I paused. Thinking to myself: 'What are these things?' In my hand were these little, but not too little, shiny foreign objects. I had no idea what they were initially,... they felt like nickels when i got them. and, they were the size of nickels. But were they nickels? On close inspection, they were revealed to be indeed nickels. The cashier must have thought I was a little slowheaded with my indecisive curiosity, and the line behind me thought I was just an asshole. Somebody barely uttered, but just enough for me to hear "hurry up and pay, asshole."
If you have not seen these new nickels yet here is a illustrated example from the mint website:
OLD
and NEW
But before you think that I am one of those, 'I hate all new things' kind of guy, I am going to go ahead and declare myself not against them. I am going to have to say that I like them. Yes I was caught off guard by the sudden appearance of a different design and aesthetic, and yes I also felt a little bit like Rip Van Winkle. Thinking, 'Where was I when these things took over?' But on the contrary, I am all for the design change. Actually, I think these new coins look cool ...as shit (of course). And I'd like to say Kudos to the US Mint department or bureau. one or the other. or is there a third?
Congratulations, You've done it again.
All Americans have you to thank for their enjoyment of the terrific 50 State Coin series, already. The quarters were spactackular. But you all have been holding back, the Nickels outshine even the state quarters.
But briefly, back to the Quarters, Wow, I still can't believe how you all managed to pack all of that 50 state goodness into a series of coins. And that lack of belief is why I am not a coin designer and employed by y'all. You. You had that belief and you got people believing. A little history lesson is needed here, unless we forget. The old quarter at the time was believed to be, by some, a dead coin. In fact, circulation was down, at an all time low. People were opting out of using the old quarters and used two dimes and five pennies instead. But not anymore, the new state coin series made people proud to be Americans once again. The quarters were dual purpose too, beauty and education. People got to learn about the 50 states that we, as americans, live in. ALL 50 of them! Virginia, New York, California, and Massachusetts, and North Carolina, and South Carolina, North Dakota and South Dakota, Wyoming, Hawaii, Nebraska, Idaho, Illinois, Mississippi, Louisiana, Pennsylvania, Georgia, Oregon, Maine, and Vermont, New Hampshire, and Iowa, Oklahoma, Texas, Alaska, Montana, and Kentucky, and West Virginia......the list goes on and on. And we all have you, the US Mint of the United States of America, to thank. For, of course, having brought that coin back from the f**king dead! Like that other dude. Its not far fetched to call that short of miraculous. or just plain miraculous. And thank you for that.
And now, the f**king nickle too?!?!?
Just like the rest of America, I too was bored out of my fucking mind with that old building and that dead dude's head. Who really needs to see a whole head? Not I. All you really need is the face. In fact, when those old nickels were still around, I stopped looking at them wretched things, any longer than I had to, to dispose of them (quickly). I'd hand them to my grandpa, and say, "take that old man". Now , thanks to you, the US Mint, and your terrific new designs, I am no longer ashamed to say I collect coins. It is hip once again. America can rejoice.
So let me start my story, after a few years spent living in a debit card delirium, I, for once, had some real money in my possession. And all was well, until I arrived at this fancy restaurant called Chicken Fillet or chic something, that was when I reached into my pocket to give the cashier lady some change. I rummaged through my pockets and found some coins that would suffice. I glanced down at them and started to hand them over, and then I paused. Thinking to myself: 'What are these things?' In my hand were these little, but not too little, shiny foreign objects. I had no idea what they were initially,... they felt like nickels when i got them. and, they were the size of nickels. But were they nickels? On close inspection, they were revealed to be indeed nickels. The cashier must have thought I was a little slowheaded with my indecisive curiosity, and the line behind me thought I was just an asshole. Somebody barely uttered, but just enough for me to hear "hurry up and pay, asshole."
If you have not seen these new nickels yet here is a illustrated example from the mint website:
OLD
and NEW
But before you think that I am one of those, 'I hate all new things' kind of guy, I am going to go ahead and declare myself not against them. I am going to have to say that I like them. Yes I was caught off guard by the sudden appearance of a different design and aesthetic, and yes I also felt a little bit like Rip Van Winkle. Thinking, 'Where was I when these things took over?' But on the contrary, I am all for the design change. Actually, I think these new coins look cool ...as shit (of course). And I'd like to say Kudos to the US Mint department or bureau. one or the other. or is there a third?
Congratulations, You've done it again.
All Americans have you to thank for their enjoyment of the terrific 50 State Coin series, already. The quarters were spactackular. But you all have been holding back, the Nickels outshine even the state quarters.
But briefly, back to the Quarters, Wow, I still can't believe how you all managed to pack all of that 50 state goodness into a series of coins. And that lack of belief is why I am not a coin designer and employed by y'all. You. You had that belief and you got people believing. A little history lesson is needed here, unless we forget. The old quarter at the time was believed to be, by some, a dead coin. In fact, circulation was down, at an all time low. People were opting out of using the old quarters and used two dimes and five pennies instead. But not anymore, the new state coin series made people proud to be Americans once again. The quarters were dual purpose too, beauty and education. People got to learn about the 50 states that we, as americans, live in. ALL 50 of them! Virginia, New York, California, and Massachusetts, and North Carolina, and South Carolina, North Dakota and South Dakota, Wyoming, Hawaii, Nebraska, Idaho, Illinois, Mississippi, Louisiana, Pennsylvania, Georgia, Oregon, Maine, and Vermont, New Hampshire, and Iowa, Oklahoma, Texas, Alaska, Montana, and Kentucky, and West Virginia......the list goes on and on. And we all have you, the US Mint of the United States of America, to thank. For, of course, having brought that coin back from the f**king dead! Like that other dude. Its not far fetched to call that short of miraculous. or just plain miraculous. And thank you for that.
And now, the f**king nickle too?!?!?
Just like the rest of America, I too was bored out of my fucking mind with that old building and that dead dude's head. Who really needs to see a whole head? Not I. All you really need is the face. In fact, when those old nickels were still around, I stopped looking at them wretched things, any longer than I had to, to dispose of them (quickly). I'd hand them to my grandpa, and say, "take that old man". Now , thanks to you, the US Mint, and your terrific new designs, I am no longer ashamed to say I collect coins. It is hip once again. America can rejoice.
September 14, 2005
My first entry.
I registered this thing more than a year ago, but forgot about it. Just now did I rediscover it. And I am now willing to see if I could make anything of it. I will try to post updates as frequently as possible. when content comes to mind, I will make note of it. Right now, however nothing is coming to mind. And I am not quite sure the type of writing or the direction I want to put on this.
I guess one thing I can do is to introduce myself to those strangers who do not know me. It really is as creepy as I've just made it sound. But it is all cool, that is the nature of the internet. Here are a few tidbits. I think I have a drinking problem, and I smoke way too much, and I am pathetically out of shape. I went to "Art' school and I think of myself as an artist, although really, I make no art. That notion has, in all reality, faded now since I am a working stiff. News Photog. One day, I will retire and look back at a boring life. Then, off course death. boring, I know.
I have a website that I've painstakingly put together, but never finished. And never will.
www.herbhurni.com
I also have a photo hosting website too.
www.herbhurni.smugmug.com
till next time... folks.
I guess one thing I can do is to introduce myself to those strangers who do not know me. It really is as creepy as I've just made it sound. But it is all cool, that is the nature of the internet. Here are a few tidbits. I think I have a drinking problem, and I smoke way too much, and I am pathetically out of shape. I went to "Art' school and I think of myself as an artist, although really, I make no art. That notion has, in all reality, faded now since I am a working stiff. News Photog. One day, I will retire and look back at a boring life. Then, off course death. boring, I know.
I have a website that I've painstakingly put together, but never finished. And never will.
www.herbhurni.com
I also have a photo hosting website too.
www.herbhurni.smugmug.com
till next time... folks.
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