A Message for the Stars

I might have failed at everything, but at least I know I tried. I've only ever known how to be myself and staring at you shining in the midnight sky with all that space around you reminds me of how insignificant I really am. Is it any wonder that the harder I reached for you the dimmer your glow became? Was it a passing cloud? Was it because your light had actually gone out years ago, but only now is it reaching me-in my time, in this place? I have reached as far as I possibly could, but still never came close to closing this distance between us. I would leave my arm extended for all eternity if it were possible, but such idealistic thinking is pointless. I have stood still and stretched and you have looked back at me and faded. It is a bittersweet conclusion, but as I turn away I know in my heart that it is you who has really lost. Stars are dead before they are even seen.

Searching for Pluto (part 2)

So, this is the second installation in the untitled story I started back on Nov. 4th, that some of you expressed interest in continuing to read. I have to apologize, because, I had written up a lot more than this shortly after that date, but due to a freak computer accident lost a whole lot of pages of writing.

I'm tentatively changing the name from Untitled to Searching for Pluto so that it's easier to search if you want to go back and read part one. I'm also posting this draft as is on the first write up and completely unedited, because, well, I'm lazy and don't feel like editing. Er, rather, I'm going to do all my edits when the stories finished.
-----

Nothing in life ever works out the way you want it to. Not even a fucking bus ride. It was every bit as terrible as I expected it to be, even if it was a helluva lot shorter than what I paid for.
Things would have been okay had they let me smoke, but apparently us cigarette addicts don’t have any rights. Never mind that the cigarette would have helped quell the nausea from the way the bus sloshed my brain back and forth.
So I sat in my seat sipping on my handle feeling outrageously sick for the beginning of the ride. It didn’t take too long before the bus’s bouncing made me vomit. Pity, that I was half asleep in my seat when it happened.
I stumbled my way to the little bathroom in the rear of the bus emptying the contents of my stomach the entire time. Inside, I tried my best to clean myself up, but it was pretty difficult considering the bus obviously wasn’t going to stop bouncing me around.
I think at some point I must have decided to sit down, because the next thing I remember is the bus driving kicking me and telling me we were at a rest stop and I had to get off. Cigarette. I breathed a sigh of relief at the realization and made my way to my feet, muttering my thanks.
Outside the air was frigid, but I didn’t care, I fumbled in my pockets till I found the two items I was seeking and plopped down onto the nearest bench. I put the cigarettes to my lips and struck the flame, breathing in. Thank god tobacco tastes better than vomit.
I drank the last few swigs from my handle and promptly blacked out. When I came to, the first thing I noticed was that someone had placed my guitar beside me on the bench. My first instinct was to check it, even though I knew I was the only one with the lock. It wasn’t until after I had the case open and assured myself it was still there that I realized my bus was nowhere to be seen.
I could go on and tell you about the hours I wasted on the phone bitching to the bus company, or the security guard that kept trying to chase me off, but it I won’t bore you. Let’s just say it sucked. Apparently the fact the bus left without me was entirely my own fault and there was nothing they would do for me. No refund, no other bus. I was stranded in some freezing, bumble-fuck country out in the middle of nowhere.
I pulled my sweatshirt tighter around me, shouldered my guitar, and left the watchful gaze of the security guard behind as I trudged my way out from the rest stop area and onto the highway.
The wind was bitter, and I realized then that I had just traded my entire life for a handle of booze and a carton of cigarettes and I didn’t even know where the hell I was. I sighed, and tried not to think about how cold my feet felt.
Fortunately, I still knew where I had to go. I still knew where she went even if it was starting to look further and further away then Pluto. Even if I didn’t know how I was going to get there, I still knew that I was going. At least it wouldn’t be so cold.

Raw: An ongoing work of... art? Brainstorming Part 1

Just for the record I've gone ahead and added some of my own notes as I did my nightly transcribing from the notebook to the screen, so when you see something like [this] [know that it is just me adding commentary. At the end I do a little wrap up called... Wrap Up: Trying to make sense of it all... yeah, good luck with that one.]

11/30 approx. 3am
Once again I can’t sleep, I have to get up in five hours and run for at least a mile to prove to myself I can, then I have to more work; guess I’m on borrowed time right now.
Did I ever tell you about my pirate-ninja dream? It was pretty epic. That’s the weird things about dreams; most people claim they can’t remember them, until come the ones they really can, then someone gets hung out to dry.
Too many thoughts, can’t slow them down enough to grasp a single one.
[Here things are finally starting to come together and I can begin to glimpse a cohesive whole, so I’ve snipped some things that are simply not ready to be revealed. Author’s rights of course. ;-P]
11/30 approx 11am
So I ran a mile one point five, maybe, tops. It was less then I wanted but exactly what I expected. I could have gone harder, but what was the reason I wanted to?
Now I’ll enjoy the day while waiting to get out on the water
…just filter up through all the bullshit till it’s like oh yeah? This is what I have forgot.
…everyone’s got their own demons trying hard to eat them up… if winter never ends will you ever see my spring?
If this is all we have is there nothing left to bring?
…everybody’s dreaming we’re all just in different states of waking up… Tell “Kirk” to bring us cigarettes please, and tell him I’ll reimburse; it’s just one more barter/trade example spun in different verse…and why is it you always have something with you; you don’t need and why is it you never bring it with you when you do?
[snip snip]
… just want to throw myself outside the window and let myself feel left alive; anything must be better than the dead I feel inside… So I’ll run and I’ll smoke, I’ll quit and I’ll choke, live this life of self destruction long enough to… to…
I spent the better half of the day barefoot, trying to get back to my roots… because the world’s so misaligned that we spend all our time staring back at space, and never seeing much
[snippity. Here’s a tease, structure and form for… FnLinLO]
…and finally after a chaotic morning I’m on the boat again still just trying to figure out from where the water it all began…
…you’re exactly what I’ve always wanted, but never really got; the point just keeps repeating—the world and it’s whole entire lot is ground beef mixed up, jumbled, scrambled and forgot.
[snip, some notes on how I would restructure and begin to edit this process tonight that you don’t need to see.]
…I can destroy my feet I can destroy my knees; I can destroy my legs all the way through to my hip; but it’ll never prove because it is the one connection that we missed; and I realize it’s just life’s wavelengths struggling to coexist
A Writer’s Daily Checklist
-hats are sacred, never lose a fucking hat
-sunglasses are always good
-a plethora of cigarettes to always have on hand for you to smoke.
-water, water, water
-run two miles at 6.a.m.
-kayak, live, and
-WRITE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
P.S. And somewhere along the way… die.

…and I take a toast for ocean sorrowing, morose I whisper, ever succinctly spoken regret; ‘Yeah, Ocean… here’s to that’ and quickly flick my cigarette over starboard to the ocean now begat. Forgive me ocean, I want to whisper, please forgive me that… and I realize it’s just the artist’s dilemma universally begot / he arrives before his time arrives and is just as quick, as he is, as is, forgot.
11/30 approx. 4pm Good bye to November
…it is going to be rough working with me tonight.
-and I found myself in water lounging making time come stand and be forgot
-it’s the entire ninja-pirate complex that is so quickly all forgot we all are either, either neither are, they all are or they are not?


[WRAP UP: Trying to make sense of it all: whew… that’s not even the half of everything I got written today, I think it’s suffice to say that I almost have enough brainstormed material to start coming up with something a little more cohesive. Which, even though it has only just begun, would mean the end of Raw: an ongoing work of… art? Well, at least it is bound to at a certain point eventually, become less Raw and will have moved up to whatever it is that comes next, Almost Prepared maybe? (I could use a catchy jingle here wordsmiths, if you are reading ;-P), Anyway, I’m not going to devote anymore time to brainstorming ideas tonight, because, truth be told, we could spend our entire lifetimes brainstorming and never get anywhere but a whole bunch of good ideas. It’s easy to get caught up and overwhelmed. I have some ideas for how I’d like to transform what you’ve been following over the last couple days into a story, I’m going to be letting those ideas percolate over the next couple of days, in the meantime we’ll ride out the brainstorm process a bit more and let you linger over just how extremely grotesque it is in the beginning of the arts. See you tomorrow for Raw: An ongoing work of... art? Brainstorming, part 2... oh did someone mention audio clips? ;-P]

Leave me something.

-AiG.

Fear and Loathing near Los Olas...

Admittedly things have been a little moody and brooding over here the last several days. Well, The three day grace period is over so I can't keep wallowing for myself. I do however, humbly, ask that you deal with it for one more day as I post the drivel my mind cooked up yesterday. I'm leaving everything unedited again, raw and rough around the edges, because well... I'm feeling a little raw and rough around the edges myself.

The Last One Month
So the last month to you, you were sitting and blue, you were stuck in the ground, you didn’t know your way around, and the last month to you It was all that we knew you were stuck and confused, and the last month to me wasn’t quite sweet(quite that way sweet but it was) it was great, it wasn’t beat, the last month to you was all that we knew, with everyone shelved up with regret and confused, and I’m sorry to say it came to be this way, I’m sorry to say, I never knew you, anyway.
And the last month to you was just a drowned out scream, the last month to me was a short lived, fleeting dream, I just want to say, sorry that it went down this way.
So the last month to you was hollow and used and everything showed up eventually.
The last month to you was hollow and blue
the last month to me I held hallow’d and new,
and the last month to you haunts in your memory
like a drowning scream
and the last month to me I held too closely
like trying to grasp the waking dream
While the last month to me,
was a good month to be,
by your side.
While the last month to you,
after the bullshit problems and struggles
everything died.


...and I see another cycle like in the way that things began; to the that they are ending / ending in our hands; and words they seem so fleeting; so easily forgot; upside down and all around; a mixed up jumbled lot; said and said and just as easily dismissed; the words and feelings just keep running, run the entire gamut.


...you have to grow, to spread your leaves and fly; otherwise you will be stunted and poignantly maligned; you'll find yourself ne'er growing, and to be predestinely-declined, those friendships ever going; are so delicate entwined; that those things are ever fleeting and fade before the mind / can ever make sense of the truth...


"I know what she means... but I don't know what I said..."


...too many thoughts are still a reeling and the glories they all fade; a distant safe word never spoken and the habitually inlaid; why is it my mind is only spoken when my thoughts of sense cannot be made? I guess it's a product of devolving... or forever growing?

Fort Liquorhell... dreamily going from the last best thing to the next worse thing waiting for that real thing that doesn't really live. People just keep going giving, given, take, get, and 'gin. No one really knows just what they're doing not until the end; when everything in life was realized and the next phase can begin.
-fin-

Maybe someday, I'll be able to make sense of all this myself.

Original Work Update--Untitled Short

I'm totally switching the tone from Tuesday's "The Thistle and the Daisies" here. (I did say, I didn't write anything of that nature very often, didn't I? There really isn't much to be said about it, but I guess I could give you all a warning, it's a bit gloomy.

Today, the room was more still than usual. Jonathon was no exception. His eyes were open and he could see the neon-flourescant glow of the bright bulb above him clearly. The light would have been enough to make an average human blink and look away, but Jonathon could not. His eyes were fixated forward as was his head, unable to move.

He could hear the rythmic hum of the apparatus beside him. It was comforting to him. It reminded him he was still alive and filled him with hope. Every artificial breath told him that perhaps one day, he might be able to move again. The thought to try would come to his still active mind, now and again, and he would have tried, if he could remember how. The nerves were dead. Severed and destroyed when the car had hit him.

He remembered pieces of the accident. He rememebered the helplessness of seeing the SUV barrel through the light. He remembered being unable to get out of it's berserk flight. His car rolled several times and stopped top down in a ditch. He remembered feeling the coldness of something wet pressing against him, filling his nose and his mouth. He remembered being trapped. It was the last thing he ever felt.

It was nothing compared to this. He could hear, and he could think, but he could not move. He could not communicate. He was fed intravenously through a tube he could not feel that pumped the life giving substance into his body. Another tube, sucked away his waste. The only evidence ever coming to his attention of this were the slurping sounds that he sometimes heard, and the nurse that came frequently and stood around him doing things he could not see.

It did not take him long to begin to look forward to her visits, he could hear her footsteps from down the hallway, panging and echoing from the empty walls as she would make her way to his room. He called her Samantha, and she was the most pleasent person in his mind, always asking how he was and telling him about her family.

In reality, never a word was spoken. Today, he was listening to the stillness of the room. The occasional slurp of a machine doing it's job, and over that, the constant steady in and out of the one that gave him breath. He was wondering where Samantha was. He heard two sets of footsteps begin making their way down the hall. They were both heavier than Sam's, he knew instantly. The stopped outside his door and he could hear a male's voice whispering, but he could not make out the words. The door swung open and the two footsteps entered.
Fsssh, foooh. Fsssh foooh. Jonathon still found comfort in the sounds that brought him life.
"Poor, bastard." Said a man's voice standing at the door of the room. "No friends. No family."
Jonathon could hear him move beside his bed.
"It's almost a shame." The other man said.
Fssh, foooh. Fsssh foooh.
"Almost." The man moved and a switch clicked beside Jonathon's head.
"Call the coroner. Time of death... eh, I'll give him five minutes."
"Let's say 11:38."
The footsteps left the room, the door swung silently shut.
Jonathon listened to them in horror as the footsteps faded down the hallway. There were no more sounds. There was nothing.

Original Work Update---Serious Attachment part 2

Hello, everyone, thanks for coming by. As always, call me nosey, but I really want to hear what everyone is thinking. So if you feel inclined please leave me some comments at the bottom of the posts.

Before I post the conclusion to "Serious Attachment" I just wanted to request that, if you haven't done so already, please read yesterdays blog. I had a small announcment there as well as a really great guest blogger sharing her opinions on character creation. Now, I've got some projects calling my name this morning so I won't waste anytime.

ORIGINAL WORK UPDATE



“. . .I’m telling you, Steve. It was really bizarre.” Rachael was laughing with one of her co-workers in the backroom of their store. “I mean I never even talked to this guy when we had class together, it’s really strange.”
Steve chuckled along with her. “What a dope. Still though, that’s kinda weird finding all those cigarette butts on your step like that.”
“Nah, not really. I’m unlisted, so it’s not like he looked up my address or anything. My neighbor’s a drunk, he does that kinda thing all the time, did I ever tell you about the time I found him asleep on my lawn one morning?”

The next day she had off of work so she slept in late. She had turned her phone off before going to bed and when she was ready casually began to check her messages.
“You have seventeen new messages.”
She raised an eyebrow as she sat on her couch listening.
“First message: *click*. Second message. *click*”
It went on and she just began to delete them, then a voice held her finger from the key.
“Hey, Rachael, it’s me, Josh. Not nice of you to turn your phone off on your boyfriend.” Laughter. “I’ll see you later, darling. Hugs ‘n’ kisses. *click*.”
“Message erased.”
She suppressed a shudder just as a knock on her door startled her to jump. Hastily she moved the curtain aside and glanced out the window. An unfamiliar car was parked in the street in front of her house.
She moved to the doorway and glanced through the peephole. Suddenly her blood ran cold. Goose bumps raised on her arms and legs. She nearly gasped. Standing in front of the door was none other than Josh, smiling. His dark hair, mottled and unwashed, was sticking about wildly. He pushed at his black framed glasses with a finger as he stood facing the door.
Rachael backed away slowly and crouched on her knees, hoping to be out of sight, her breath caught in her lungs. Just then her cell phone began to ring. Splitting the quiet, stillness of the air. She wanted to run for it to shut it up, but instead crept as quietly and as quickly towards it as she could. She silenced the ringer and hesitantly put it to her ear.
“Hello?” She whispered.
“Hey, love.” Came the familiar, pleasant sounding voice that sent a shiver down her spine. “Are you home, I was hoping to hang out today.”
She hesitated. She could feel her heart pumping in her chest,. She could hear it’s beats loudly and imagined them echoing through the walls. She wanted to silence it. Cowering in the corner behind the couch she found her voice, but only whispered.. “Uh, no. . . I’m not.” Her mind was racing. “A friend of mine came and picked me up.”
“Oh that’s too bad. I really wanted to see you today, feels like I haven’t seen my girlfriend in days.”
“Josh, I’m not your girlfriend. I’ve been seeing someone for awhile now. I don’t know what gave you this idea, but you seriously need to stop. It’s creeping me out. Don’t call me anymore, okay?”
He laughed off her words without missing a beat. “Don’t be silly. When do you think you’ll be home?”
“I am not being silly, damn-it!” She said still trying to remain quiet. You seriously need to stop. Good bye!” She hung up the phone and quickly shut off the ringer.
A shadow of a figure crept in front of her window, blanketed out by the curtains. She leaned further back into the corner, holding her breath. She touched the button to call her work.
“Ritger’s Hardware, this is Steve. How may I help you?”
“Steve, it’s Rachael.” She whispered.
“Heeeeeeeeey! What’s up girl?”
“Shh, not so loud. Steve, I need your help, that guy is lurking outside my house.”
He laughed. “What guy,” then remembered, “oh, are you serious?”
Another shadow crept along behind another window of the room.
“It’s not funny. I told him I wasn’t home, and now he’s outside, I dunno what he’s doing, walking around my house or something. Please, can you get here?”
“Nah, Rach, sorry, It’s just me and Jim right now, no way he’s letting me out. You better call the police or something. I gotta get back on the floor, we’re busy. I’ll come by when I get off. Things will be alright. Bye.”
Silence.
She waited a minute and then dialed three numbers.
“Hello. . . Police. . . Yes this is an emergency.”

They told her there was not any units available immediately, but to stay inside and they would send one within an hour. She sat for an hour and a half not daring to move. Cringing at the sounds of hands rustling at her windows, or tugging at her door. She prayed that all were locked. The shadow continued to dart from window to window and then it disappeared. She thought she heard the sound of a car driving away but she could not be certain over the sounds of her own breathing. Her knees were aching from where she had been crouched and her palms were sweaty as she tried to phone the police once more.
The unit was on it’s way. She sighed and waited a few more minutes. She had not seen or heard anything for awhile. Her legs were aching so badly. She choked down her fear, and gritting her teeth, stretched out her legs. She felt better knowing that the police were on their way and risked a quick glance out the front window. The car she had seen was gone. She breathed a sigh of relief and pulled the curtain away to get a better look around. A hand stretched from the side of the window and slammed into the pane, making her jump back with a gasp. The phone fell from her hand.
“Hey, Rachael! Let me in! I wanna talk to you.” He began to beat on the window frantically. He moved to her doorway and began to beat on it repeatedly. She froze on the other side, afraid that he might break in. “Hey, come on!”
A car approached, she heard the brief flick of a siren.
Bwoop-Bwoop.
The beating stopped. She looked out the peephole, he was moving away from the door. She waited a moment and opened it slowly. He was approaching the officer his hands clasped behind his back.
“Young man, I’m sorry, but I need to ask you to leave.” The officer was saying.
Rachael thought she caught a glimpse of something flash in Josh’s hand, she opened the door and stepped onto the porch.
He spoke, but she could not hear what was said.
The officer’s response however, was loud and clear. “Then I’ll have to lead you out in cuffs, come along now.”
Josh turned around and smiled so brightly at Rachael that she froze.
“I love you.” He said, and turned upon the policeman.
A knife was in his hand, she saw it now. She tried to scream out a warning to tell him to stop, but everything formed on her tongue and died at once. All she could do was gasp and watch as the officer reacted quickly.
Two explosive sounds deafened her senses. Josh fell backwards with his glasses flying away from the twisted smile frozen upon his face. Rachael slumped to her knees. The two explosive sounds reverberated through her ears.
BAM!
BAM!
She stared ahead fixedly, but could barely see. The officer was down beside the body, doing something. He was speaking into the radio at his side, but the words were lost on her. She pressed her palms into her face harshly and pulled them away. There was wetness on her palms. Was she crying? She couldn’t tell. Her knees were knocking together so violently she thought she might fall. There were voices speaking, but all she could see was that twisted smile frozen behind the tears and obscuring her vision.

Personally, I think the conclusion isn't all that well written or exciting, but I learned a long time ago that I am usually pretty self-deprecating when it comes to my own writings so I've tried to turn that negative voices volume down. What did you think of the ending?

Original Work Update---Serious Attachment part 1

Today for the original work update, I'm switching gears a little bit. The following is the first half of a short story that I have written. I'll be following this up with the second half next Tuesday. Thanks to all the newcomers for stopping by, I hope you enjoy the blog and please feel free to leave your comments, I really enjoy reading and responding to them all.


Rachael was staring at the puddle of blood and white chalk outline at the foot of her driveway. Her hands were open at her sides and shaking so violently she was forced to wring them together and clasp the folds of her skirt tightly between her fingers. Her eyes were wide open raining down silent tears. Her mouth opened, closed, and opened again, but not a sound escaped her lips. She heard the sounds of the men moving at the edge of her vision. Her eyes widened as her attention turned upon them and she heard the sound of the body bag being zippered closed. The men pushed their load into the back of the ambulance and slowly headed away on quietly weeping tires.
Rachael’s eyes stared fixedly at the dark red puddle thinking of how empty she felt inside. There was a voice addressing her, but she did not respond. Her eyes were fixed within her skull, fixed upon the puddle at the bottom of her driveway, on the life spilled upon the curb.
“I’m truly sorry Ma’am.”
The voice finally succeeded in pulling her attention away and slowly she turned her head and her wide, dark eyes to the man in front of her.
“I am sorry, but we’ll need to get a statement from you as soon as possible.”
Rachael opened her mouth to speak and coughed, the words catching in her throat. She was no longer able to hold the officer’s gaze and she dropped her head down to tare at her feet.
Seeing her disposition the man hurriedly continued to speak calmly and softly. “Perhaps you should sit down, miss. Take your time.” He put his hand gently on her shoulder and tried to guide her to the bench on her lawn, but she made no response.
His hand went to the radio at his side, but as he went to retrieve it she looked up, drew a deep breath and with her shaking hands wiped at her face. “No.” She said firmly as the color slowly came back to her complexion. “I’m fine. I’m ready. What should I tell you?”
“Tell me how it started.” The man replied readying his clipboard and pencil.
How did it start? She tried to remember. It started with a phone call. No, that was not right. It started before that. “Well, I guess it started a couple weeks back.” She said quietly. “No, several actually. It was the beginning of the month. I was at the mall with my aunt. We were doing some shopping when I ran into him.” Her eyes were distant, vacant and glazed.
“Slow damn, ma’am.” The officer said calmly. “I need you to go back to the beginning. Please, tell me who he is.”

Her phone was ringing. It had been ringing, she realized slowly, as it pulled her from her sleep. Then it silenced. Rolling over she shut her eyes and pulled the covers back over her head. It rang again. Sighing she rolled out of bed and groped around in the darkness for several minutes before she grasped the phone, flung it open, and squinted her eyes away from it’s light. She sat down on the edge of her bead.
“Hullo?” She spoke into the receiver, the words grating in her throat.
“Hey Rachael, how are ya? It was really nice running into you today at the mall.” The voice was loud and chipper on the other end and she pulled the phone away from her ear frowning.
She took a moment to process the information. “. . . Josh?”
“Of course, who else?”
“Josh, I dunno, how you got my number but--”
“You gave it to me, silly.” He laughed. “You must be sleepy, sorry if I woke you.”
“BUT,” She interceded. “It’s. . .” She glanced at her clock. “It’s three in the morning, Josh. And I didn’t give you my number!”
“Of course you did.” He said with a hint of playful laughter behind his voice.
Sighing, she fell onto her back and fluffed the pillows around her.
“Whatever.” She snipped. “What the hell do you want?”
“I was just missing you, that’s all. I wanted to call and tell you how glad I was to see you today, I mean, I haven’t seen you since classes got out for the winter.”
She sighed again, very loudly, into the phone. “That’s sweet, Josh. Thanks. I really appreciate you waking me up at three a.m. to tell me so. Look, I gotta get up for work in a few hours and--”
“Okay, I’ll see you in the morning then, good night.” He quickly hung up the phone and she was left listening to the sound of the dial tone buzzing in her ear.
“What the hell?” She muttered and dropped the phone from the side of her bed. Tossing and turning it was long moments before she returned to sleep.

That morning the strange phone call was long forgotten by the time Rachael had readied herself for work. She grabbed her purse and opened the door, locking it closed behind her. She froze in mid-step, her eyes drawn to the pavement. There, on her front step, lay in a neat, little pile easily a dozen stubbed out cigarette butts and tiny pieces of burnt paper. She stared at them for a minute before looking around. Seeing nothing, she kicked the butts into the shrubs and hurriedly got into her car.