Archive for August, 2010

1. Doomed (2006)

What chance do we have?

With the misdirection society is plunging in, do we have even a shot at living simple, upstanding, moral lives?

Definition and interpretation of morality is largely subjective, however I would say that disparaging someone after, or making light of, their untimely death is flatly immoral.

I recently overheard a man talking about his ex-wife. He was speaking to a few women, one in particular, and casually mentioned that his wife had gotten cancer and died during the finalization of their divorce, “…making the process easy for him!” No remorse in his voice, no follow-up statement to make himself sound less arrogant or heartless. Instead, his crude follow up was, “I didn’t do it! I didn’t do it!”

Read On…

2. Beep-Beep. (1999)

I was riding my bicycle down a city street in Rochester, NY when some idiot and his girlfriend in a gigantic Jeep tried to veer me into the cars parked alongside us. It was a perfect east coast spring day- cool and sunny. I had a sweatshirt on, and it must have made me look a bit younger than I actually was; Bullies usually only mess with easy targets.

I avoided hitting the cars, not for the lack of him trying, and as what I thought to be a passive retort, I rode in the center of the street making it briefly impossible for him to pass by. I was confused and pissed, but intent on enjoying the day… I was on my way to a friends’ house, so I opted to inconvenience him for just a minute and then turn off towards my destination.

The plan was solid until I heard what sounded like a loudspeaker in my ear: “Get out of the road you stupid fuck! I’d love to just run you over but my Jeep’s too nice! Get out of the way you loser!”

What a stupid, one-in-a-million chance. The prick that was veering me into the cars also had a megaphone with speakers set up in his jock-mobile; That alone entitles him to have something bad happen.

Read On…

3. Learn the Hard Way. (2002)

I am at a point where I don’t understand anything, least of all the things in my life that I thought I understood quite thoroughly.
I’m not driven by anything positive, I’m not contributing anything I feel is positive, and I fucking can’t stand to even look most of the people I meet square in the eye.
Those things are a problem.

I am a person that is highly affected by my intentional and unintentional surroundings; I feel as each week and month passes, they become more and more foreign and less and less appealing. I can’t really say why. I think it has something to do with the fact that every time I leave the god damn house I’m reminded how the things that fuel modern society are the very same things that fuel my aversion to it.

Read On…

4. Fatally Flawed. (2001)

In everyone’s day-to-day travels, they surely run across someone that is thinking something bizarre or derogatory about them. One easy way to determine how much of a freak or an asshole someone may be is whether they have the gall to say those things to strangers… I’ve met more than a few people that haven’t yet made the complicated distinction between casual conversation and belligerent antagonism.

The most recent disappointment was a fanatical gentleman at the Home Depot in Lakewood, Ca. My friends were building wooden skateboard ramps, and I was assigned the daunting task of matching the screws they were using to some new ones at Home Depot. I was also responsible for paying for them, carrying the bag to the car, AND delivering them to the builders. All in one day…

I was walking around the worst home improvement store in the free world carrying a screw and looking for the cryptic sign in the aisle that would lead me to its mates when a well-dressed, normal-looking thirty-something man stopped me short. I figured he may have mistaken me for an employee- I get that a lot at establishments frequented by oddballs and older white people- but no such luck.

Read On…

5. The War. (2010)

As time lengthens after a notable occurrence or significant feeling, their gravity and severity often dissipate… or at the very least, soften and blur. I believe this is mandatory in order for sanity to stay intact.

I often recall feelings from many years ago as if they were born today, and while I am glad to have had experiences worthy of strong memory, if their potency were to diminish a bit, it would make my psychological situation a little more manageable.

Maybe they are simply un-reconciled within me; Maybe I am just a big fuckin’ baby. Either way, when I look around my house at some of the non-disposable things that live there, my eyes often well up and my heart drops. Many other innocuous incidents elicit a similar result.

I am quite sad, quite often. I’m not an overtly morose sort, and certainly not one that needs or solicits sympathy for troubles I have undoubtedly brought on myself. I am also not one that believes being sensitive makes me weak; Quite the opposite. The darkness and ill-ease that keep me up at night also drive me; Sometimes mad, but often times to, through, and past any goals I set or roadblocks that may stand in my way.

And maybe if hard things softened over time, as I wished, it would be a disservice to the memory. Maybe the honor of enduring the experience is served best by its memory staying sharp and mean, and proving useful in guiding my future path.

6. “The Trump Card” (Non-fiction, 1997/ 2007)

This is a story about my personal interactions with Mark Christie, the man that kidnapped and killed four-year-old Kali Ann Poulton in 1994 and killed Viola Manville in 1988.

It is featured in PDF form here, and also in full-form below.

The Trump Card

It is not to be re-posted anywhere without written permission. All writing on this site is Copyright, both the real way and the poor mans way. And, I’ll find you.

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He would stare at the cardboard cutout of a woman (used to market some sort of diet pill) as if she were going to come alive and adorn him the King of Man.

Chapter 1: Foundation.

I was a healthy eater, and had done enough personal homework on the subject that working in a health food store seemed like a great job for an 18-year-old in the midst of deciding where his life would go.

I applied in person, and had an instant report’ with the manager, Jim. He loved the mall for the environment, which goes a long way in describing his character; He was quite a character. He picked up on my non-slapstick sense of humor immediately, and we got along swimmingly. A perfect cross between Higgins from Magnum P.I. and any other trim, well-kept, mustachioed incarnation of an English butler, his sarcastic smile and scowl were interchangeable, and both were used as methods of passing judgment on every customer, passerby, and employee in our mall.

Jim had a long history in retail management, and even a brief stint as the owner of a video store. That wealth of experience enabled him to work just hard enough not to draw attention to himself, yet still shine brightly in the face of upper management in person. He was a low-level management wunderkind, and would not hesitate to tell you so if you asked.

Daytime at the mall is often a dead time, and conversation becomes vital so as to not look like you’re doing nothing. Jim and I often talked about his numerous ideas for inventions (all of which he was going to patent at some point), and also movies- he watched, critiqued venomously, and lived vicariously through the silver screen.

Prior to my new job, I had interned at a local paper as a staff writer, and was sent to the movies several times a week to watch and review… Jim was jealous, and I think that having held such a prestigious and sought-after position as an unpaid movie reviewer for a sub-par local paper caused him to consider me a peer and not a subordinate.

The only other employee at the store was a very un-noteworthy college girl who up and left with no notice, leaving us searching hastily for a replacement.

Mark Christie was the 3rd person interviewed, and arrived at the mall in a suit and tie.

Read On…