Aaron and Ken: A short story, Chapter 1.

Ken licked the frosting seductively from the spoon in a slow, luxurious manner.. He took his time, savouring the sugary smooth creaminess. A tiny bit escaped and landed on the corner of his mouth. He paused, and then gently and deftly extended his tongue to get every last dollop. He put the spoon down, sighed, and gently bit into the moist, succulent cake

The mixture of frosting and cake was divine as the two textures fought for dominance in his mouth. He wanted to savour it, but his hunger was carnal. He bit into his slice again and again, consumed by a desire and yearning that the cake would only temporarily fill. And suddenly, but for a few crumbs, it was gone.

Ken sighed...should he have another slice? Or save it for when the hunger for something naughty struck again?

I watched from a chair at the kitchen table, bemused by the nature show playing out in front of me, the cake standing in as prey. I have to admit, I was tempted to join the hunt, as there was another slice of cake on the table, but I was satiated from the ribs that were served earlier. Humans are technically omnivores, but there was something about the juiciness and texture of meat that appeals to my baser nature. I glanced down, and saw some tangy BBQ sauce still coating my dark, mocha fingers. Hmmmm, would it be gauche to lick it off?  I furtively glanced around the apartment. Ken was looking for the remote. What the hell! Besides, if I got caught, Icould play it off as a compliment--"The sauce was so good, I had to get every drop". 

I surreptitiously raised my fingers voraciously working free the stickiness with my tongue. Unlike Ken's slow, languid movements, I did not have the luxury of time. My tongue darted and flicked around my fingers like a humming bird, coaxing every last bit of tangy goodness...while my pillowey soft lips delicately pursed around my finger, hoping to finish up my task before Iwas discovered, Too late...Ken was looking at me with a hint of bemusement and just a little bit of...shock? I drew himself up in pose of mock haughtiness and replied..."Well, if there's anything else with BBQ sauce that I can suck on, let me know, but for now, my fingers will have to suffice." I guffawed, and winked broadly, while feigning looking Ken up and down. I was proud that I was close enough to say something that louche. We laughed, and headed for the couch.

We both sat down on the couch, and were enveloped by the cushions. It was a comfortable piece of furniture, tailor made for long conversations, warm, full laughter, and the occasional tears of sadness and exuberance. In short, it was a couch for two friends to talk--the perfect intersection of form and function.

Ken still had the remote in his hands. Let me describe Ken to you. His hands were made for piano playing--long, graceful fingers which weren't out of place on his lithe and lanky frame. He was tall but wore his height well. Unlike others who were tall and gangly, Ken moved as if all his parts were put together in perfect proportion. He always managed to look cerebral, as if hundreds of thoughts were running through his mind, fighting to get out, and all of them jumbled at the exit. 

There was a beauty with intellectual conversations with Ken...his thoughts would float and flit like a butterfly in a meadow filled with flowers. Touching here, moving there, making connections that would turn your head with the complexity of it all. But at the core, Ken was a decent guy, who sometimes seemed too fragile for the harshness of the world.

I sat at the other end of the couch. I'm Aaron. I'm a heavy set guy, my bulk and stature reinforcing the presence I bring with me when I enter a room.  With my completely bald head, I look meaner than I generally am, but my comportment could match my countenance if pushed too far. I'm cerebral like Ken too, but have the advantage of not looking like it until I open up and let my musings and thoughts march into the world. And when that happens, watch out. People often made the error of conflating my bulk and physical slowness with a lack of mental acuity. If one does that with me, I will make you pay. Dearly. And will have fun in doing so.

A conversation with me is like dodging a sharpshooter firing a rifle. The beauty (and dare I say fear) lays in the precision, accuracy, and my unerring ability to find the target of illogic and destroy it. It's a beauty born of efficiency, directness and ruthlessness--like a shiv making an appearance in the belly of a prisoner.  One never knows exactly when my ammunition of logic would strike, but one does know that if I'm being serious, the ammo would come fast and furious, and it could come at any time. But at my heart, I have a passionate and tender core, which belies the heavy artillery I possess.

I turned on the couch and gazed thoughtfully and intently at Ken. "So...I began. Ken grimaced inwardly. Ken knows when I start off with that particular word, it was a sign that I'm going to skip the small talk and head straight to the meat of the conversation, whatever it was.

I laughed heartily, as I have an unerring ability to sense what people were feeling, but I have to admit that my  laughter died down as I realized this was going to be a life changing conversation. I looked into Ken's quizzical eyes, and swallowed hard. Despite my  best efforts, I was nervous, and I didn't want to be. I had planned this out in the confines of home for hours. Hopefully it wasn't going to be all for naught..

Ken looked at me, worried and a bit confused. He knows my skill is the ability to get to heart of the matter instantaneously without worrying about the reaction and fallout. And yet, Ken detected an expression on my face he'd never seen before. Was it? Could it be? Fear? No, it wasn't fear. I don't show fear. But I was nervous   It was the face of a man who was rattled and unsettled. Me rattled--my God, Ken looked at me as if he was thinking, "What are you going to say?"

All through my life, I had a plan. Things were planned. Flow chart, military precision planned. Every option and every potential choice had a Plan A through Z attached. Every contingency was  thought out, as much as my life afforded me the ability to plan out for every contingency. But today, all of that went out the window. Much to the my amazement of myself and Ken, I leaned in....

To be continued...

Swimming or Drowning?

I was swimming a couple of days ago at my gym's pool, and I saw someone drowning. They were moving gracefully in the water, and then something happened. There was a lot of thrashing, arms flailing and the like, so animated that all of in the pool turned to look him. To be honest, it looked so stereotypically comical, that none of moved, even his friend standing 3 feet away from him in the water.

We quickly realized that he was in trouble, and all of us, including his friends made moves to help him and effect a rescue. He did manage to right himself, and with his two confederates, made his way out of the pool and onto the deck.

Here's the thing--he was in trouble, but it looked so fake and affected that no one believed him at first. It was only until it continued that we realized something was seriously wrong.  Especially as most of the stuff I've read indicated that drowning is very rarely the thrashing and flailing about we see on TV or in the movies.

Sometimes in life..I don't know if I'm swimming or drowning, or just floating by. Swimming is where one makes progress, and everything is moving smoothly. Arms and legs are working in unison to propel me in the direction I want to go.

And other times, I'm floating...I've got control, but I'm letting the currents take me where they like, and going along with the flow. Aimless and rudderless to be sure, but should I expend the effort, I can be back on track.

And there are days where I'm drowning--life's waves and currents are too much for me to control, and I'm in danger of going under. Lately, it seems like that is what's happening to me more and more. And I do fight it...I do thrash about and flail my arms and hope that I can regain control.  But I'll be honest...sometimes I think it's just easier to sink. Just for a little bit and then pop back up to the surface. The funny thing is that while on the surface, waves are rough and toss you about...but underneath? It seems calmer...

I am reaching though. I am reaching for help, and I know that help is available. But it scares me when I start to think no one can help and no one can see me.

I do love swimming. And I'll do my best not to drown. I promise. But I won't lie, it's getting harder and harder.

PASSION!! Find it, keep it, love it, and don't let it go!

Lately my blog entries have could be accurately described as a jeremiad- a long, mournful complaint or lamentation; a list of woes. I think that's pretty accurate, wouldn't you say?  These past two weeks, I've been through a lot, have had a lot of illusions shattered, and come to realize that I need to work on my thought processes so that I don't continue making the same mistakes. As trite as it is to say, it really has been a roller coaster of emotions.

I've been happy, sad, morose, saturnine, angry, and everything in between. Some of that directed at myself, some of that at others--let's just say that there have been a lot of targets, some which may and may not have been deserving of the fire that they've received.

Today, however, I wanted to talk about my passions. And generally, passions of mine make me happy. So, huzzah!!!!

If you're following me from my FB link, you'll know that singing particularly, and music in general is a huge passion of mine. I love to sing, I love to sing in front of people. Shakespeare and acting is another passion of mine. I'd go head to head with someone's knowledge of The Bard.  Finally, photography and politics round out the list of my passionate passions!

Life is hard. It can be tough. We all have worries and things which wear us down. Which is why it's so important to have passions. We NEED things to get excited about. We need things which can lift our bodies, souls, spirit and intellect from the grubby nature of life. We need things (and people) to be excited about; to remind us that life can consist of facets that bring us pure, unalloyed joy. And if not joy, at the very least, cause us to smile and forget about the drabness and humdrum nature of humanity. Life is hard enough without having something in it which causes us to dream, laugh, hope, and aspire.

Picture a bloodhound at the foot of his owner--sitting there, unmoving. And then someone comes and gives him the scent. And off he goes! Here and there, through the water, and mud, over fields, until he finds what he's looking for. That is what our passions should be! Something that will arouse us from life's stupor and get us excited. Excited to learn about it. Excited to practice it. Excited to do it. Excited to watch it. EXCITED. For, it's my humble belief that THOSE are the moments that make life fun and worth living.

If you're lucky...your passion can be a person. A person you love and care about, and are willing to move the heavens and earth for. Someone who can share your hopes and dreams, and excitement that life has to offer. I'm not talking about a make-work project, far from it! But can a person rouse you from life's stupor and get you excited? Of course! Can you want to learn about him, be excited about doing things with him, invest your time and energy in him so that together you can deal with life head on? Damn straight you can! Can a person give you unalloyed joy just by being in your life? Most certainly.

I can't imagine not having my passions. It would be like putting out the fires in my soul. But if you don't have a passion, find one. Work at it. Experiment until you find something and someone to experience the joys of life with. And if you DO have a passionate thing or person in your life--do your damndest to keep him in it and do your best to feed and grow your passions. What people don't get...is that when your passions die or leave, a tiny bit of you dies and leaves as well. And like a colour newspaper photo that was vibrant at publication...over time it fades.

Don't fade. For the love of all that is holy, life is too precious to fade out. Or rust out. Don't do it. 

Find your passion. Or find him or her. Or find someone who's passionate about sharing your passions and appreciates you. 

There's not a MOMENT to waste.

Don't, Miss.

I miss my friend's chats at night
I miss the long talks, telling each other our darkest secrets and innermost thoughts.
I miss having a friend to go to karaoke with.
I miss teaching someone to sing and practicing.
I miss our shared bond and agreement on love and romance.
I miss long car rides.

I don't miss the flakiness
I don't miss him being late every single time
I don't miss being shunted into his schedule after everyone else.
I don't miss the indecision.
I don't miss the coolness and distant nature.
I don't miss wondering...about everything.

I don't know how I feel.
I do know how he feels.
Missing someone not knowing if he misses me...

I won't miss that.

Withdrawal and Collateral Damage

I've been going through a very rough patch which has in its roots the fact that life is incredibly unfair and it's not like Burger King-you don't get it your way.

And I know that life is unfair. I'm under no illusions about that. I just wish that sometimes, it would go my way when I'd like it.

So, onto the theme of the entry! Collateral damage is when you kill, injure, wound, or destroy something other than the intended target. Of course, no one wants this in a military conflict, because innocent people get killed or wounded, and property not related to the war or incursion gets destroyed for no justifiable reason.

The problem is that collateral damage is inevitable and the people suffering it get angry and aggrieved. REALLY angry.

As I mentioned before...(A Letter from my Heart)..that I need to heal and take care of myself. But I worry in doing so, I will cause collateral damage to someone I care about. But this is the problem. Sometimes, collateral damage is inevitable. It happens. And there is nothing one can do about it. All one can hope is when all is said and done, things will be fixable, and repairable.

Withdrawal. In a battlefield, when one withdraws from a position to regroup, one HOPES that the enemy lets you get away with it. But far too often, it doesn't work that way. The opposing side continues to fire and and try to destroy you. And you have a choice to make--get the hell out as quickly as possible, or fight back while retreating.

In terms of my life and the issues that I'm grappling with--I've decided to withdraw as quickly as possible. For now, I don't need the stress, the arguments, the undercurrents of potential hostility and anger. I don't need the sadness...I don't need to suffer any more pain and hurt. I don't need the tears and the depression. I need peace and quiet and time to think and figure out what I need to do next.

I...I just wish I understood myself more...and even though I abhor solitude in this stage of my life, I need time to think and reevaluate my life, and my choices. And in doing so, I am definitely risking collateral damage. What a mess!

Solitude. Soulmate. S.O. All three start with "so". I wish I could find the last two.

Silence! An Introvert's Wish

Why Can't Some People Just Learn to Shut Up ( April 1999)

In the world there are people who just have to yap, 
But you'd love if their mouths took a really long nap. 
I don't mean Dimitri or Ward, or Michelle, 
'Cause when I'm talking to them, all is swell!
My life is ebullient, my joy effervescent!
I give off more light than a bulb incandescent!

But other, dear readers, are not quite astute
To acknowledge the times that they ought to be mute.
For they babble and bluster and go on and on
Spewing enough B.S. to nourish a lawn.
And then there are others who just have to speak,
If given the chance, they'd speak for a week.
The phrase, "peace and quiet" is one seldom heard,
And if it were mentioned, they'd think it absurd.

For if I want to sit in a lunchroom and read,
because I believe it's some down time I need.
As I hear their crude insults, I inwardly grin,
Since you'd think I were committing a grave sort of sin.
"Anti-social! A snob!" is what they all cry--
And I'm forced to ask that age-old question of "Why"?

Why do people feel the need to infringe
to such an extent that they're making me cringe?
A book in my hand, and my S. Walkman too
Is a crystal clear clue that I won't speak to you.
Don't take great offence, just take it in stride
While keeping your comments and sermons inside.
And please, lawd-a'mighty, don't think you're all that,
To the point when you enter a room, we MUST chat.

The truth of the matter? I value my time.
So permit me to act like the chilliest of mimes.
If I wish to speak, I will speak with elation--
With a resounding and clear and concise salutation!
Like "Hi, how are you doing, bad day, or What's up?"
Which is my clue to you that you needn't shut up.

And thus ends my di'tribe about verbal missiles,
And THIS ends my ranting and rhyming epistle. 

A letter from my head

I wish that I understood how love and romance works.

I wish it were as easy as comparing a list of qualities on a sheet of paper or a computer screen and checking off what you both have in common and seeing if enough stuff matches up so you could date.

I wish there was an algorithm and you could just input the factors to see how long your relationship would last.

I wish things that could fade in time like looks were given less importance than the things that last forever--like character, being a kind soul, a caring person.

I wonder what makes two similar people remain friends or even enemies, and two totally different people last forever

I wonder if opposites attracting isn't just a myth

I wonder why rejection hurts so much.

I wonder why I lost the genetic lottery of attractiveness and being handsome.

I wonder why people can have such a good time with me and not see me as a romantic partner. Then again, I look at the previous question and wonder why I ask and answer my own questions.

I wonder why this keeps happening over and over again.

I wonder how much of myself I will have to change to conform to the standards of beauty so someone will give me a chance.

I wonder when I'll surrender and give up

I wonder how much more I can take of this before I snap for good.

And I wonder if I therapist can help me.

“It is strange how often a heart must be broken 
Before the years can make it wise.” 
― Sara Teasdale, The Collected Poems

A Poem dedicated to common courtesy in the style of Dr. Seuss.

I wrote this YEARS ago, but found it relevant. It's all about common courtesy. But before we get to that...I'm going to share with you a tidbit that is going to rock your world. And that tidbit is this...

“You’re wrong as the deuce, and you shouldn’t rejoice. If you’re calling him Seuss – he pronounces it Soice."

I know...I tottered when I read that. I reeled. Apparently we've been pronouncing his name wrong for decades, and it's only because it was easier for him to accept this mistake that none of us know. 

Anyway! On to the poem (that I wrote)!

Hopping Mad  (Back when e-mail was a thing)

Common courtesy—where has it gone?
It used to be present from sunset to dawn.
Pleases and Thank-yous were once all the rage,
But now it’s a product of a much different age.

We used to be civil, we used to be kind,
But now all that’s heard is “Kiss my behind”.
And one has to wonder, what in hell has gone wrong,
To the point I am writing this lamentable song?

The fault, my dear friend, is that blasted e-mail,
Which, I hasten to say, has replaced old mail snail.
Email is instant, it’s fast, and it’s cheap.
But response to an “e-mail”? Ahh, nary a peep!!!

By now, vaunted reader, you’ve probably have guessed,
That this poem of sorts, was not written in jest.
Is our time so compact, so harried and rushed
That to type a reply makes us both pale and flushed?

If you profess you are friends, and mean what you say,
Then what are you waiting for, just type away!!
If you have not the time to write a large tome,
Then write something small, as light as the foam.

It need not be Shakespeare, or romantic Peruvian.
It need not be runic, or antediluvian.
What counts is the effort that one expends
In the action that says, “we are still friends”.

That effort, I grant you, may be big or quite small,
But it’s a damned sight better than no effort at all.
For no effort at all, says a heck of a lot
It says, at the worse, that the friendship is shot.

And if our poor friendship has run its sad course.
Don’t let me beat it like a dead horse.
Have the courage and guts and fortitude to say
“I appreciate your effort, but it’s really ok.
I think that it’s time for us to move on,
The good times were great, but now they’re all gone”

Yes, it might sting, and hurt just a bit.
And I possibly might feel like a great bag of…excrement.
But at least I will know---and not waste my time,
Writing verses of poems that all have to rhyme.

I know in this poem, I’ve slightly digressed,
But I just had some thoughts that I had to express
Common Courtesy ( I pause, as I take a deep breath).
I hope I’m not lamenting its untimely death.
For in my case, all it would have took,
Is a 5 minute e-mail, not a play or a book.

And so, my dear readers, I grope and I flail,
To find a solution, but to no avail.

What the heck are "wise old saws"?

I meant to clear this up earlier, but I figure now is a great time. What the heck do I mean by "wise old saws"?

Most people know only know the familiar definitions of saw. The first refers to the physical implement used to cut down trees; It was a very sharp saw. The second is the verb--the act of using a saw. He sawed the tree in two is a perfect example.

The second major definition? The past tense of the verb "to see". I saw red at the betrayal is a great example.

But now that we have the low hanging fruit out of the way, there IS a third definition. And that definition is...drum roll please..."a proverb or maxim". Remember the old saw: Oppositions don't get elected, governments get thrown out.

And this, dear readers is what I'm referring to. While I'm sure some would love a blog about tools, I'm going to focus on bringing to you the maxims, proverbs, and good ideas that I find useful. And I'm hoping you'll find them useful as well.

So stick with me! There'll be a lot of emotional venting, a lot of great life lessons, a lot of laughs, and more than a few wise old saws.

For now? I'm changing up the lyrics of one of my favourite songs. Hope to see you soon!

Inferno: A auto-biographical poem

Inferno

Some days I am a fire
Roaring and sparking, all encompassing,
Giving off heat and light,
Visible to all.

My passions are the fuel for my flame
And the audience the oxygen.
One or thousands, it doesn't matter,
When both are put together, I am
Unstoppable

Marching and advancing,
Devouring and consuming,
With a hint of danger if one comes too close.

And yet. There is a sentience about this inferno.
A soul. A spirit. An intelligence.
A longing to be paired with someone who can handle the heat and embrace it, and yet not be destroyed.
A desire to burn as bright and hot as it possibly can.
To provide warmth, heat, and protection against the cold, and wild animals howling their displeasure- Scaring away the things that lurk in the dark and have no name.

In tender moments,
To caress
And comfort over and over and over again,
Stoking your flame and the heat within,
Until we are sweating with the heat and passion of my penetrating love,
Your head tilted back in supplication as the flame inside you ignites and explodes repeatedly
Until there is nothing left...until next time.

But today I am embers.
Do not be fooled by them.
Instead of looking at what is,
Think of what might be when those embers ignite.

And it will be glorious!

Korean Face Mask Kasualities and Go!

I was doing some cleaning in the condo, and came across a small plastic bag containing four Korean face masks.

I sighed. It's amazing what memories, emotions and feelings can rush back when one sees the most innocuous items. Especially when those items are highly symbolic.

Suffice it to say, they reminded me of better and happier times. They reminded me of hope and inspiration holding sway over the ugliness of reality. It's ironic, because that is what a facial mask is supposed to do; take something which could use beautifying and making sure it happens.

I'm a big fan of Marie Kondo--discard things that don't give you joy. So, as I looked at these facial masks, I asked myself a hard question. Do these give me joy? Does the memory of what they should have signified outweigh the reality? And if it did, was that memory enough to take some of my precious bathroom space, and keep them?

I have to admit, I imagined me wearing one--and I had to laugh. I imagined other people wearing them. And I laughed as well.

I thought about the situation which led to me possessing these masks. Hmmmm...not as happy or joyful. However, the absence of joy is not necessarily the presence of pain or hurt. One can look at anything and feel neutral about it. And in my world, laughter and joy outweighs neutral every day of the week. Sometimes, the world is so harsh and cold, that neutral is a win. And any day where neutral is the choice instead of hurt, pain, anger and negativity, well, that's even a bigger win.

Now, will I personally wear these in the near future? I don't know. I'm still undecided on that, as my skin is flawless. LOL.  But does one have to use a souvenir to be reminded of happier times?

I usually try to tie in a lesson so that this isn't just a place for me to vent, but also provides some use to my readers. And I guess what I'll say is this.

Keep the things in your life that provide you joy. But don't be so quick to toss things that are neutral. In today's age, things which don't cause hate, pain, loss, and anger are rare things indeed.

So, even though I won't use the face masks, even though there is a little bit of sadness attached to them, and even though at best, I'm neutral about them...I'm going to keep them. Because sometimes, standing still is better than regressing, neutral is better than hate, and a tie is better than a loss. Call it "The Everyman's Credo."


P.S. I usually attach a song to these entries. And I get that this is a bit of a downer. So for some uplift, one of my favourite songs...a Broadway classic! "Everything's Coming up Roses", sung by Ethel Merman.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aGyiuFZ7cs8