Something Will Come And Destroy Our Culture (Here Comes Honey Boo Boo)

The best part of Monday morning for me is that it’s the perfect time for an existential quandary. That’s my form of exercise, using the brain. You can keep your squats and crunches. To my gyms are a waste of time and filled with quandaries. People keep walking but get nowhere, keep pedaling but remain in the same pot, and everyone seems to be searching for something. Six pack abs and rippling muscles? Fuck that, give me a six pack of ale and let me make ripples on the couch. There are two muscles I concern myself with and a gym won’t help either of them. The one muscle needs more of a coaxing than exercise, and the other muscle is of course my brain, ergo the quandary.
So here is my existential quandary, my brain work out for today. Honey Boo Boo! My daughter talked me into viewing an episode with her last week and when it was over my head was numb. When the shock of the show being considered entertainment wore off, and the more profound shock of realizing my daughter enjoyed it, I launched brain first into the quandary. WTF??
Today I need to put the frightful experience in context. The quandary? Was what I saw real or was it a manifestation delivered via television to brainwash our culture into becoming judgmental? I didn’t o much place judgment on Honey, or her “trailer” family (hows that for judgey?) but more on those that watch avidly. I’m not pigeon holing this show, there’s way too many more like it. Buckwild, Duck Dynasty, Jersey Shore, all kinds of shows that propagate judgment. Turning our culture into a mass of ridiculing bigots. I am afraid I may become a Boo Boo’s witness and go door to door warning everyone that Hell awaits them if they fail to watch. Should these shows exist here or are they better suited for a parallel universe. Wait, is their a parallel universe or are there multi-verses, and if so do I exist in any or all of those universes? Fuck it, my brain hurts, time to hit the shower and start my Monday.

Word To My Mom

tribute to Mom. Thanx for never really breaking my neck or handing me my head on a platter. I know you could have just taken my head when I forgot it because it wasn’t attached to my shoulders. I want you to know that even after doing it so many times I’m not blind, although I do need glasses. I’m talking of course about not poking my eyes out running with scissors. The truth is Mom I miss you, sometimes I even fuck up, oops sorry, fornicate up just in the hope that I will hear my middle name screamed in anger. I seem to have grown your finger which I use to point at my own kids when I get mad. I know, I know, it serves me right life isn’t fair so I won’t roll my eyes or look at you with a long face. (gotta admit I still son’s know what a long face is) One last thing Mom, some of my friends jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge and I didn’t join them. You taught me well… Love you Mom, and gallons of love to all the Moms out there who make life worth living.

Sleepless In New York (You Had Me At Gunpoint)

What’s a nice gun like you doing in a place like this?
A writer is often called upon to take a memory that they’d prefer to leave full of cobwebs hidden away in the memory attic and bring it back to life for retelling. I’m told its therapeutic but truthfully I fear it may be the proverbial camel breaking straw that may release my inner serial killer. Maybe that’s harsh, more the harmless psychopath that dwells locked in the caverns of my id. But for the sake of art I will lurch head first into the darker depths of my era of depression an relive this horror in words. No, not THE depression, I’m not THAT old, my depression, the confused, self medicating years of my youth spent in the absence of light. I have a somewhat sordid past to begin with so there is the possibility this is a dangerous exercise that could unleash the devils warrior that may be lurking about in the hopes of finding a portal into the mortal. Ergo (I love using that word) I put forth a disclaimer or two. First, there are no innocent people in need of protection but names were changed anyway to make them sound more badass. Second, this story may or may not be true and may or may not be based on real life experience. Either way, it could happen to you. Here then is a tale of one night when my darkness encountered the darkness of a gun barrel. The night I was held at gunpoint.
Like most big cities New York has an underground drug market. On the Lower East Side you can get it all. Pot, pills, coke, dope, pretty much any drug you want, you just needed to know where to go and how its sold. On 14th street give the two finger V sign and you’ll attract valium salesmen, down on Third Ave listen for the word “sense” and you have pot. Coke is by Tompkins Park, and heroin is in the famed alphabet city. Life had dealt me some major blows, leaving me living in a tiny room with no family connections. I had used a lot of different drugs but my depression was at an all time low, even I didn’t want to hang out with me. I found solace in drinking booze and sniffing bags of heroin to take me away. It was a very dangerous game to play, one because its an unforgiving high and if you let it get you it won’t let go, and two because to cop it you had to go into the belly of the beast of the city where not a single soul can be trusted. But when you don’t give a shit about anything, even your pathetic life, it’s a risk worth taking. So I did, I went down on occasion to cop some dope. The dealers have people they call steerers, who steer you to the sellers. It’s a labyrinth designed to protect the dealers in which you encounter three people before finding the one holding the dope. This hot July night I was gamed by a junkie who posed as a steerer.
“Hey Bro, you looking for some good dope? Mr. T, the best shit in town right around the corner.” Mr. T was legendary dope, very strong and a real prize among users. In an attempt to let him know I knew my shit I asked, “Old executive or double Dee?” This Latin dude stared at me. He has very tight curled hair parted in the middle and a pock marked worn face partially covered by a weak goatee. “Hey look Bro, you be talking to Culebro, I da man wit da plan G. You want the real deal Hollyfield Exec or you wanna get that cheap ass double dee shit from the negritos Yo? Follow the Culebro if you want the good dope son I ain’t got time to play games boy the fucking man is all over this place. Come on ahead or get the fuck out!” I made a shit decision, I followed The Culebro.
It’s not uncommon for dope to be sold in an abandoned building. No neighbors, easy exits for the dealers, and no one to tip off the cops. But this abandoned building was just that, abandoned. I followed Culebro up to the third floor, the stairwells lit by candlelight. I thought that was a good sign, that usually the habits of a smart operation. Or an operation no longer in use. As soon as we entered the hallway on the third floor Culebro pushed me up against the wall and stuck a handgun to my head. “Okay blanquito, how much you gonna die for tonight?”
I’ve often heard the phrase “shit a brick” to describe a profound fear. First let me say that if one were to shit even little pieces of broken mortar it would take a great deal of effort and concentration, both of which were in short supply. I assure you bowel movement would be amongst the last thoughts one has with a loaded pistol poised at ones forehead. Nor would my thoughts cause me to perspire bullets. My life didn’t flash before my eyes. That would have at the very least offered some entertainment. Most of went through my head was more like, “Oh fuck. Oh shit. That’s a fucking gun! What the fuck am I gonna do now. This fucker is crazy and he’s gonna shoot me.” I also entertained the thought of being a statistic in tomorrows police blotter. Unknown twenty something found dead in center of chalk line on Lower East Side. Me, reduced to a thin line of white chalk! But that was a fleeting thought, what I instinctively knew was I had to escape or die. But how to approach this escape? Beg? “Oh please man please…don’t. I have a family somewhere maybe I’ll have children someday.” No, that won’t work. Calm reasoning? “Hey look man, this is a mistake, I’m not worth it. I have no money, the gun will make noise and cops will be up here in seconds.” No, cops aren’t anywhere near this area, its one of the poorest in the city. Here gunshots and sirens are like birdcalls in the morning. No go. Bargain? “Look man, I have plenty of cash in my apartment in the village, we can take the subway over and I’ll go up and get it all for you. I won’t tell anyone, I swear.” Right! He seems like such a trusting soul. Options are limiting rapidly. Then it hit me. My bright idea.
Living in the city that never sleeps has some unwritten, unspoken rules. There is a good chance that at some point you are going to get ripped off. Mugged. Always split up your cash an always have some cash somewhere. You never want to carry a lot of cash around but you always need something. If you get mugged and have at least a little cash you chances are good it’s a druggie looking for quick cash and will take your money and flee. Roll it up in bundles to make it look like more than it I. A well rolled wad of single can look like a major score, and most times the thief doesn’t stop and count. If you have nothing you run the risk of pissing them off and turning them bat shit crazy. I had my own strategy because purchasing drugs on the street was an art. Hundreds of scammers and muggers. I place my drug purchase money in my front pocket, a small wad of singles in my left, and a roll of cash in each sock. That way if I get mugged before copping I can still cop, and if its after I can give them money and they won’t know I have drugs. But this situation was different. This dude knew I had drug money and he wanted it. He doesn’t realize I live here, he thinks I’m a B&T. B&T is slang for Bridge and Tunnel, a reference to the fact that kids come from the suburbs of Connecticut, New jersey or Long Island to come to play in the big city by driving through the tunnel or over a bridge. Easy prey. But I was no longer B&T, I had been living in the city for four years now and knew a lot of tricks. I opted for one I practiced in my mind but never in a real life situation. I sprung into action.
With my hands in the air I said, “hold on man, hold on. I have some more cash here in my sock.” I slowly reached down towards my foot and removed a wad of singles wrapped in a twenty to show him. Then I flung it up in the air using my thumb to separate the bills and it looked like bills from heaven. It was just the distraction I needed and as he greedily started grabbing for the bills he lowered his gun and I fled like the track star I could have been if I applied myself. (that’s what my Mom always told me). I didn’t stop running until I reached the village, and I absolutely learned my lesson about dope. I’ll never cop anything in that neighborhood again!

Experienced Waitress wanted (hopefully and up and comer!)

“Is That A Rolling Pin Under Your Apron or are You Just Happy To See Me?”

My very first restaurant experience was enlightening in many ways. I was hired to ensure the sanitation of the entire establishment be maintained throughout the dining experience. I proudly bore an exalted title than made me the envy of my school. “Potwasher,” a title that’s far more demeaning than the inoccent name would imply. But fuck it man, I didn’t care. Other friends had jobs in deli’s, gas stations, or retail stores and shit. They had easier jobs, but I had something they didn’t. Easily accessible alcohol, fun loving dudes to joke around with, and HOT waitresses.
So there I was, at the suds busting helm of a sink full of soapy water smiling away at all the hotties. My raging sixteen year old hormones were smiling too. Even the older waitresses were HOT. I quickly learned of the extra advantage of apron wearing which could conceal my budding enthusiasm. Cuz the waitresses were HOT! I used the traditional three compartment sink method, wash, rinse, and cold water to cool my jets in. It wasn’t just that though, I was accepted.
Most people who are “Quirky” out on the fringe of society at age 16 get made fun of a lot. That or run off to the circus or carnival to blend in with other “freaks” But not this young lad, I headed straight for the restaurant life. Working at a restaurant was a religious experience for me. I was like holy shit man, there’s people here even weirder than me. A good restaurant is filled with artists. Struggling actors, singers, comediennes, and writers. That was mostly in the front of the house but I was back of the house. Apparently they don’t get along in many establishments. I can understand the old fuckers in the back of the house but the young chefs? Don’t they see how HOT the wait staff is? Some of the staff were gay, but if guy on guy sex was up my alley I would have bent over backwards for those hunky servers. Dressed just as revealingly as the female counterparts the gay waiters were HOT too. Some so hot I may have considered switching sides from time to time, but the sea of sizzling sexy waitresses was way too plentiful. And HOT.
I loved the way the older waitresses flirted with me and I think I looked good in crimson red when they made me blush and laughed about it. The unflattering white cook shirt really complimented my reddened face. I didn’t care because I was in a kitchen and I could handle the heat and my perseverance paid off one particular evening. It was a tediously slow Monday night and the manager decided to let Kat, the thirty something head waitress close the restaurant. Kat was a divorced women with long blond hair in a shag cut that made her look younger. Deep blue eyes were highlighted by thick mascara and her eye shadow bore an even deeper shade of blue. I used to wonder if she was a model when she was younger, but I was a pup myself and somewhat naïve. She had the perfect face for a young boy to fantasize about, wearing more make up than she needed and pouting oversized lips painted gleaming hot red. Fantastic legs with bulging muscles even in her ankles. I spent many a break following those legs around the kitchen dreaming while trying not to get caught looking.
The chef and cooks broke down and left even before then, so it was just me and Kat in the restaurant. Kat was one of the women who loved to flirt with me to get me mumbling and flustered and goddamn was she good at it!. This Monday night she walked into the kitchen with her skirt higher than usual and asked me if I wanted a drink. I replied indeed I would and she told me to come on out to the bar and She’ll “give it to me.” I watched as she left the kitchen not able to take my eyes off her legs. Had to check the apron to make sure it didn’t reveal my own tightened muscle that had formed below. All clear so out to the bar.
Kat was behind the bar with her back to me. She turned around and caught me staring at her ass and smiled, “See something you like Hon?” I smiled weakly and thought to myself “Oh yea, I see something I really like.” As if she read my mind she grabbed two rocks glasses and walked over to me. “How bout this Hon?” She handed me one of the glasses. I drank half of it straight down in one fast gulp. “Easy Hon, you don’t want to go too fast.“ There was a throaty tease to her voice, but more obvious was the tease as she gently rubbed that muscle I was talking about. The blood shot up to my face so hard and so fast I thought someone hit me. With her other hand she reached up and unbuttoned three of the buttons of her blouse revealing three quarters of her smooth breasts barely covered with a thin flower print bra. She had my undivided attention. My apron muscle stood at attention as well. I pulled the apron string and let it drop to the floor. I launched a near attack on her breasts but she grabbed my hands, “Easy Tiger, no need to rush.” She skillfully undid my shirt and pulled it off an began sucking on my nipples, “This is how you do it Honey, nice and easy.”
The adrenalin that shot through my body was electric shock therapy. I never even thought women sucked on guys nipples but I was a fast learner. I returned the sensual gesture and paid total attention to her breasts, lovingly applying my tongue on her nipples. I could tell she liked it because she was making soft moaning noises of approval. I was so focused I barely even noticed that she had undone my pants. I pounded down whatever was left in the rocks glass for a little bravado. It went down easy yet burned all the way. I struggled out of my pants an underpants and Kat led me to the lounge and laid me on a cushioned bench. She remove her stockings and panties but not her dress. She just hiked it up an straddled me. Her skilled hand directed my heat seeking misle inside her and pumped away furiously. It felt so unbelievably good my inner self was ablaze and transcending rapidly. My entire circulatory system sang, danced, then gathered in my penis and threatened to make it explode violently. Kat slowed her pace as she moved up and down with artful slow rhythm and now it was me making sounds. I moaned and groaned and claimed my allegiance to god over and over as Kat just kept moaning simply “Yes, yes, Yes, oh yea.” Suddenly she got very loud and screamed “Oh god, here it is, I‘m coming, I‘m coming!” and then a AHHHhhhhh, that began really loud and got softer and slower by the second. Hearing her orgasm brought me to the breaking point. I exclaimed loudly “I think I’m gonna come,” but the warning was too late as I exploded my hormonal syrup, every last drop of it deep into her. The two of us lay there panting and moaning and panting some more. Like needles and pins blood pumped through my face and I fell in love for the very first time that very second!
Of course it wasn’t real love, Kat had zero interest in love especially with me, but I could feel it. I knew I was in love. We had sex a few more times after that night, mostly in her apartment. Kat never once made it feel awkward at work, I never bragged to anyone so no one knew what we did. One day something came up and she had to go back home to Kansas. I would never see her again, but neither would I ever forget her.
Kat schooled me in so many things, but nothing so expertly as pleasure, both how to please and how to be pleased. To this day looking at a waitress makes me horny and reminds me of my carnal adventures with Kat. I know she never loved me, that I merely served a purpose for her for a while but that’s okay. I would fall in and out love a hundred times more and have plenty of sexual adventures. Kat did way more for me than I ever could for her and she may be the true reason I fell in love with restaurants to begin with. I’ve had a great career as a chef and have my share of excurions so intense they would make Kitchen Confidential seem lame. I’ve been loved and been in love. But nothing will ever compare to the love I got from Kat the waitress. Thanks Kat, wherever you are!

Yes, I Read A Clockwork Orange in My School Daze

Lesson in Civility

I enjoyed to writing but it came as a surprise to most that I also loved to read. Many of the teachers believed that I didn’t read because they knew my “type”. That meant worthless lazy potheads who don’t have enough ambition to read. They took me for a non caring loser who didn’t give a shit about education. Most of the time I just thought ‘fuck them’ cuz they‘ll always think their better than us.. I had just finished reading a complex and unbelievably outrageous book called “A Clockwork Orange” in which the characters had their own slang language making it a more difficult read than most. I walked into Mr. Refester’s class prepared to debate the attributes in this fine book that was to be the focus of the days lesson. Refester, or Reefer as we called him, always tried to trip me up. For what ever reason this fucker really had it in for me. It was no surprise that he directed many questions to me in an attempt to mess me up but I had the proper answers. That pissed him off so with his stupid smirk he asked me what happened to the main character in jail. The character, Alex, had killed a fellow inmate and gotten deeper in trouble. When I relayed this info to Reefer he shot me a distain filled glare and revealed his stern teacher voice. “That never happened in the book JT that only happened in the movie. This proves you didn’t read the book, you only watched the movie. Try reading next time instead of taking the easy way out like always. You get a zero for the day.” I was angry beyond belief. I had not even seen the movie and I loved the book so much I read it twice. Well I let him know this in no uncertain terms but he didn’t hear a word I said. Instead he went into a tirade of what happens to lazy marijuana smoking kids who try to fool their teachers. There is no doubt in my mind my face went from crimson to purple with anger. Periwinkle purple if I remember my crayola’s correctly. Tired from working last night, still slightly buzzed from second period, and angry as castrated hornet I flipped. Sick and tired of being unfairly judged I stood up to better state my case and looked around the room at my peers to see who might lend me support. Anyone who read the book would know I wasn’t lying and that was what happened in the book. Every last one of them turned their heads, looked down at their desks, or just smiled in approval at the injustice being thrust upon your friend and narrator. So all alone I stood on my oddy knocky infuriated and decided to stand my ground. After offering my own version of the account and pleading my case, Reefer just stared at me and said ‘Sit down Mr. Hilltop. Maybe you didn’t hear me. You get a zero for the day.” That was the final drinking tube that crushed the dromedary’s back. I eyed the door, thought about my options and what would be the smart thing to do. I knew the right thing was to sit down, regroup and go find a copy of the book to prove my credibility. The right thing has never been my forte. With that in mind I mumbled “Fuck you” just loud enough for everyone to hear as the silence blanketed the room. I then thought what the fuck, might as well give a parting blow to the asshole spineless peers in my class as well. I walked towards the door as Mr. Reefer kept yelling at me to get back in my seat and sit down, but the ship had already started sailing and was probably gonna sink anyway. I wanted to leave no doubt that I had read the book so as I opened the door I turned to my classmates and using the books slang in my most silky golass I creeched, “You bunch of vonny grazzy devotchkas and chellovecks. Nary a one of you had the yarbles to open your silent rots and speak their golass on behalf of yours truly. I’ll not slooshy another slovo. You can all kiss my sharries. My appy-polly loggies to the young devotchkas but enough of this chepooka. Seems I will always be on my oddy knocky in this excuse of a classroom. Bog save you all my droogies” As I slammed the door for effect I started to regret my actions already but I knew it proved I was in the right and now the whole class would have no doubt, unless of coursse they didn’t read the book and didn’t understand the language I used. I was right right right but still in deep shit. I was scared but also hot and needed to talk to someone, so I went straight to the cafeteria to find just one of my droogies, er friends.
“Hey Patrick, whats up bro?” Patrick was a cool bud who seemed to be friends with everyone, jocks, hitters, greasers, hippies and even the brainiacs. But today he was alone at the table which was cool by me, I needed to calm down anyway. “Hey whats happening JT? You skip class man?” “Yea bro, something like that. Fucking just had a fight with Reefer and walked out of his class.” “Oh man that sucks. What a douche that fuckhead is. Come on over after school and I’ll sneak out the bamboo pipe.” Fucking A Patrick, you’re the fucking best. I know I’m gonna get in a shitload for this. I think I told him to fuck himself in front of the whole class.” At first Patrick looked at me with deer in headlight stare. I saw his eyes soften up and begin to cave in on the sides and he began his loud guffaw of a laugh he had become famous for. “Ah ha ha oh my gawd JT, you said it out loud? That’s the funniest thing I ever heard.” We both laughed for about five minutes and as soon as I composed my self I said “I don’t think Reefer thought it was funny. Anyway whadda ya gonna do? Fuck him.” “You may get in trouble JT, but it one helluva great story to have. We can talk about it later. C’mon over after school, I got some black hash that’s preamo.” “Thanks bro, we can always count on our friends. No one else, but always our friends.” No sooner had I said that when one of the school principals pets came up to me and said “Justin, Mr. Winston wants to see you.” “Yea, that sounds about right. Catch ya later Patrick. Right after school?” “No problem JT, I’ll be waiting.” Time to pay the piper, whatever the fuck that meant!

You Say You Want A Revelation, We All Want To End The World


The last one picked is the one no one wants on the team. Revelations was the last one picked for the Bible and I have to wonder why. Too fat, too slow, or too uncoordinated? Maybe it jut flat out sucks!? Of course there’s only one way to find out. Investigation. So here it comes the Christian Search Investigators. The CSI-Bible to find the DNA and other forensic tidbits. Maybe even trace elements like epithelia’s, fingerprints, or secret documents to uncover the truth behind the end of all things. Except gods inner circle of course.
The main players in this tale of apocalyptic reckoning are somewhat questionable. Written by John of pathological, it includes the four headless horsemen of Sleepy Hollow, the Liar of Judah, angels, trumpeters, the beast, a dragon, a false prophet, an arched angel, and of course no bible story would be complete without a whore, this one straight outta Babylon.
The book of revelations is somewhat difficult to tell because its told in some unusual circumstances. The story was revealed to this dude John, who was locked up in prison in Pathos. He was a prolific writer who had already had a number of stories published in the New Testament. A few under the epistle category, and a gospel song called Psalm 43 (The P has the right to remain silent). Many religious scholars say it was actually 3 different Johns but if I get into bible discrepancies I’ll never get to this story. The truth is that John had a visitor in jail.. (looked alarming similar to Mary Magdalene though she denied it. Three times.) This visitor had placed a very powerful tab or two of LSD (legal at that time) in her mouth and transferred it to Johns mouth in a disgusting public display of spit swapping. A face sucking, tongue tango, snog toggle, French kiss whose true purpose was to exchange the hallucinogenic treat. When John got back to his cell, and after his bulge subsided (Really don’t drop the soap now!!) he was visited and told a story by god. I had a similar reverse episode once, after ingesting a chemical mind tickler I learned that god took some acid and saw me! Another day.
So during his intense peeking (I think that’s what people on acid trips call it when the trip hit’s a crescendo. I think!), that was when god suddenly said to John, “Dude, you wanna hear about the future of mankind?” Stupid question, of course he did. He was tripping after all. So this story was how John best remembered the telling some 18 hours after the acid wore off. That’s some powerful shit there! This is the book of Reservations. Reverberation. Revolution. ….Sorry, The Book of Revelations!
Here it is in his very own paraphrased words as he told it to me one day back in the late 60’s:
“So Mary and I kissed and I could feel two tabs of something on her tongue. Yea I know she said it wasn’t her but she just didn’t want to end up on the front page of the Abraham Inquirer. An let me tell you the J-man was one lucky Jew she was one helluva kisser. Anyway She tells me to swallow, something you don’t normally wanna hear in prison, so I swallows the tab. Then she tells me I just took two tabs of Blue Cheer acid. Man I was stoked. I smiled all the way back to my cell knowing what was coming. I got to my cell and laid down on my stone cot. After about a half hour I hear this voice. I sit up an look around but there ain’t no one there. So I lays back down when the voice comes back, this time calling me by name. So I shout who’s that, who’s there? And the voice says ‘Its me John, God.’ Now I’m thinking it must be the acid kickin’ in right? I mean the voice was like soft and almost girly. Not the powerful deep voice you’d think God would have but he insists. ‘Really John, its me God’ Then he steps out from the shadows and sure enough it is God. Amazing how much Jesus looked like him. Spittin’ image. What else could I do? I sez, whats up God?”
“He walks through the bars, I mean right through, like they wasn’t even there. Then he sez, ‘John, I want to tell you a story. I want you to write it down and make sure everyone reads it.’ I sez to him, you mean like a bestseller or something? To which he replies, ‘yea, something like that. But first try and get the story into the bible, because this is the story of the beginning and the end.’ Now I’m really thinking the acid is kicking in but I sez yea sure and he continues”
“When I first created everything I had seven arch angels to watch over heaven and protect it. Six of these arches were cool, but one arch angel was just a real pain in the ass. Has to do everything his way and wouldn’t follow directions. Finally one day I caught him in bed with Gabriel’s teenage daughter and that was the last straw. I tossed his ass out and straight down to earth along with one third of the questionable residents of heaven. He went down to earth with them and they formed a gang calling themselves the Crypts. He goes to the garden of Eden and begins recruiting humans for his gang. So I had Gabriel, a very trusted angel form a gang up here because I knew there would someday be a major showdown. He formed the Bloods of my blood, after my sons prophecy. We call them the Bloods for short, and it created a rivalry that would be the mother of all rivalries. Good vs. Evil, Bloods vs. Crypts. One day we would have our gang lords get together for an epic showdown. This showdown will be called The Rapture.”
“Now I’m still tripping but I know this shit is real so I keep scraping away on my stones getting down his words so I could one day write the book for him.Being an ancient journalist of course I had questions, so I asks him to explain to me how this Rapture thing is gonna go down. Then something happens that may sound like a fairy tale or a hallucination. He floats up to the ceiling an sez come on up John it will be easier if I show you”
Now I’m flipping ya know? I’m like how the fuck am I supposed to get up there, but before I even thought about a strategy I was lifted off my feet and floating right next to him. Honest to god, from Gods mouth to my ear he whispers, ‘Watch this. These guys can really stir it up’ A light went on and I swear to you it looked like a giant flat screen TV in HD. The images seemed so real. There was a stage with seven muicians. Al Hirt,Loius Armstrong,Wynton Marsalas, Miles Davis,Chuck Mangione,Maynard Fererson, and Dizzy Gillespie. Not just ordinary musicians each stood with a trumpet in their hands. The seven Trumpeters. They jammed for about an hour and that’s when the real show started!”
“As the story unfolded God narrated over it. The stage floated up to the corner of the screen and the image of earth came up below it. Al Hirt stepped forward and God whipered, ‘the first trumpet’. Al blew a fast riff and out of his trumpet spewed balls of hail and fire down onto the earth. In an instant there was a split screen and on the right I could see cities getting bombarded with hail and burning meteors. Devestation was everywhere. Then Satchmo came out and blew towards earth, and every volcano on earth erupted simultaneously filling the oceans with ash so thick it looked like a sea of mud.’ second trumpet.’ Next it was Wynton and he blew into all the rivers of the earth turning all the water everywhere bitter. ‘third, and here comes number 4’, Miles come out and blows toward the southern hemisphere and freezes it entirely. I was freaking. On the split screen people everywhere running in circles, slipping on ice, not having a clue what was happening. Then Chuck and Maynard come out together and blow sulpher and marijuana smoke all over earth, getting the humans high and making it stink like shit. Finally Dizzy comes out and starts blowing opium, making not only him, but every human dizzy. Even Miss Lizzie!”
“Well now I’m thinking what was the point, everyone gonna die, but its like the big guy can read my mind. ‘You’re wondering why right?’ I shakes my head and he sez ‘I needed to piss off Satan and the Crypts.Get ready because now is when the real fun begins. Now The Bloods of my blood and the Crypts are gonna wage an all out war back in the little town of Armegedeon. For this I am switching to Imax, cuz this shit is way sick.’ My eyes are already bugging out and now it Technicolor. Brilliant images on the screen of an area that looked like Mordor. Maybe the only place on earth not frozen or scorched. This was where they was gonna wage the final battle of all time. I pinched myself to see if it was real.” John was getting antsy and says wait, I forgot to tell you about the Seven Trained Seals. I need to tell you about that before I go on.” At this point John looked a little uneasy so he requested a ten minute break and diaapeared. (TBC)

Prisoner Of Love

During the insidious adventures of JT he learns some hard truths about himself

Prisoner Of Love

That inevitable moment arrived, and we both knew it was coming. Time for JT to leave and move on to the next adventure. This time I wasn’t really sure if I wanted new a new adventure. More unsettling was I wasn’t sure how I felt about Jo. Could it be love? Maybe. Not the traditional type of love but a strange and alluring love that grabs hold while your not paying attention. A love who‘s destiny it was to fail. One that started as a time bomb of sexual tensions that made good on its promise to fulfill both our intense needs and then must fizzle out. That was all it was supposed to be, two lovers sharing the comfort of each other for just a short time. But the sexual volcano erupted and the lava it released was strong and unfamiliar. Is it emotional feelings? Not good! Not good at all!
We agreed from the start that before her boyfriend got back home we would go our separate ways and we were okay with that. No attachments, no bullshit, not strings. At the time it seemed like a good idea but I never considered that emotions might figure into the equation. I mean sex without commitment should be a young mans dream. And the sex was good, god damn was it good. Reckless abandon. She put the music on real loud to drown out our very loud sexually motivated squeals and promises . I can’t even remember half the shit I said but the half I do remember all involved me pleading gods name louder than I ever did before. So often and so loud you woulda thought I was a devout follower.
The fact that no strings were attached was what made it so intriguing. It wasn’t supposed to happen but I was pretty sure I did love Jo. I reasoned I was just not in love with her. At least I didn’t think I was. She understood me the way Tina had, we intertwined emotionally the way Carrie and I had, yet I knew from the start she was unattainable. Maybe that was it, maybe just wanting something I know I can’t have is whats driving these feelings?! One thing I was certain of is Josie and I were really good together, even our conversations were deep. But it was time to discard the emotions and say good by. Who knew it would be so difficult. We laid naked in bed in a satiated silence after what was presumably our final high energy fling. Anyway we went at it as if it were our last time either of us would ever make love again. So much determination and passion we were motionless for over an hour before she spoke.
“JT Sweetie, I sweer I ain’t never gonna firget you baby. But y’all know Jake is coming back tomorrah and you bess be long gone for then.” She placed her head on my chest using her soft curls as a pillow. She tenderly reached around my shoulder to lightly scratch the back of my neck. “Why does it have to end Jo? Why can’t you come up north with me?” She moved her hand to my lips, “Shush now Justin, y’all know that caint happen. Things is way differnt down here baby. Things is expected of a gurl down here. My Mama won’t never furgive me an my Papa, well Papa ain‘t one to anger up none.…Ya don’t wanna be puttin no bee in yer bonnet with Papa, Honey J. I juss caint do that, my future got be with Jake. Thats the way its spose to go. I got to think about the future.” I placed my arms around her and planted her head firmly between my neck and chin to caress her with my cheek. “It doesn’t have to go like that. You are in charge of your future. You make your choices. There ain’t no reason you can’t leave here. Hell baby child even if its not with me why get married to someone you don’t love? Trust me, that shit don’t end well at all, I been there and it sucks.” I could feel a tear on her cheek. She sat up, “JT, that’s not how life is here in Conway South Carolina. I gotta answer to Jesus. I know y’all don unerstand that but it means a lot here Baby Boy. A girls folks expeck her to marry the man they wants fur her to marry, have chillen and raise them to fear the lord. Womens don’t get to do no choosin’ round here. A girls past can foller her around an make her life horrible if ya goes against thangs. My past is determining my future, and my past is with Jake. So now my future got to be that way too, Sugarpie. Don’t matter none what I wants.” I looked at her incredulously. “That’s not true Jo it matters very much what you want. Its your life pretty girl. Your past only determines who you were. Its what lead you to your present but it sure ain‘t who you are now. You can’t live in the past Babydoll that’s over. Your past is gone, you own your future.” I gently kissed her on the temple. “Listen to your heart Jo, what’s your heart saying? The heart knows because the heart lives in the present and begs you for a future. A future that you want, not what god or Jesus or your mom and dad want, but what Josie wants! You’re not defined by your past and you can rewrite your future Sweet Thing. Listen to your heart. I think I hear it whispering my name.” She smiled a half smile that told a hundred stories. The story of the past two weeks, the story of a girl and a boy sharing the most perfect moment in time. It hinted at what could be while at the same time mercilessly reminded her of her fate. It told of deep stories of sadness and defeat, told by a lonely girl who believes she has no control over her own life. Stories of things gone by and things to come, but not the story of the now, the right here. No stories of a happy ever after with me or of endless possibilities. A smile that is fighting the sadness underneath, a profound smile with eyes that confirmed the feeling of hopelessness. “Weeze all defined by our pasts JT, ain’t none of us can rewrite the future no matter how much we want to. The heart only lives in the present because its afraid of breaking. Like mine is this here right this second. I dint never spect this to be so hard baby. I aint even sure how it happened, but we had us two weeks of bliss and I ain‘t sorry bout a second of it. But it got an endin sugar, I‘m sorry but as much as it hurts me this song is ending. Every song ends. I sure done wannit to stop neither but that’s my life honeypie. Things happen for a reason an we juss gotta figger out what the reason fur us was.”
We embraced deep in thought for a few minutes. This feeling was so foreign to me. Fuck man, am I starting to grow up? I’m not sure why but I still wasn’t ready to let this all just slip away, “Jo baby listen” I sat up and took her hands in mine. We stared into each others soul with piercing compassion. Our eyes embraced. “The past doesn’t matter Josie Rae. You done things in the past and I done things in the past but that’s history, not destiny. Maybe its our destiny to look beyond our pasts and think about a future. I never really thought that things happen for a reason, like fate or anything. I always believed everything was random and just happened. But maybe I’m wrong. Maybe shits not just random. All the things that happened to me were so we could meet. That’s why I took a trip with people I knew I had no business being with. That’s why I got busted and stuck in jail. To meet you. I learned a lot about myself doing my time in prison. Maybe I was in prison to straighten my head and to get ready for you and me.” Now her smile was thoughtful, she was fully aware she was in complete control of everything. One of the things I love about her. (did I say love?) “Sweetie, you wasn’t in no prison. You was in jail Baby Boy. You spent time incarcerated in a southern jail, and maybe you sure enough did do some growin there, but it was just a jail, not a prison. People like you an me we carry our prisons on our backs. It sure nuff don’t seem right but thets how it is fur our kind. We dream but we ain’t never in control of our dreams, not really. Way I figger it weeze born wit the prison on our backs, you an me. We likely carry’em tar graves. And we been out of prison for four glorious week, maybe the best four weeks of my life. Leastwise the happiest. That’s what I got hon, an that’s gun be my most precious memory. I sure hope its yers too, cuz it shore was like heaven. For four weeks Justin you let me out of prison and I will always be thankful for that. But I got to take my prison back tomorrow, and I recon youse gonna fine yersff a prison you can live with too. Leastwise I recon you will. Lets juss firget all bout this now an just be happy with each other one last time. Lets make love once more afore you leave.”
I had no argument left, she was right. I did carry a prison on my back, I always had. Besides, over time she would get tired or bored of me, or worse, something bad would happen to her. No one stays with JT. Not for long anyway. That was my prison, a life that’s a plague of death and abandonment. Like I always seem to do I get hung up on the people that leave my life, Joe, James, Ken, Bill, June, an even my mom. I put them aside and thought about the past four weeks and I gave her the most passionate kiss I was capable of. Then we made love. We made love for over an hour, not with reckless abandon this time, but with calculated tenderness. When we finished we wrapped our arms around each other and never spoke another word. We both fell asleep and when I woke up it was six o’clock. I quietly got out of bed and kissed Josie Rae Sessions on the cheek and whispered, “I don’t care what you say pretty girl, I love you.” I could swear she smiled but whether he did or not, the only fair thing for me to do for her was to exit quietly. At that moment I knew I did in fact love her and that’s why I have to go. That’s how much a really love her, my staying would only hurt her. I let my heart break so she could go where she truly believed he belonged. It wasn’t right, it totally sucked but thats the kind of shit you do for real love. Sacrifice. Love comes with consequences and you gamble on some pain. I learned how much love really can hurt, how my love for one woman was so strong I broke my own heart to allow her to follow hers. Right or wrong, that wasn’t for me to choose. I had my life to focus on now. I washed up, got dressed and left. I left with exactly what I had arrived with four weeks ago. My wallet, my clothes, and the prison on my back.