Short Story About Standing In The Snow
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She was at the gas station by the
corner of the building and she
held her bags close on both sides of her body and
the snow was falling around her like
wishes that she had given up on
long time ago.
I stood at the pump
under the awning and
thought that while I may have it easier
she stood with
more grace
more certainty
and more purpose
than I do
on any day
of any week
of any year.
A Postcard From 5:00 AM
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My eyes opened and it was too dark to see the ceiling and I knew the alarm clock was coming soon but I silently slid out of the bed and down the stairs and felt my way through the dark to the tall desk in the corner and covererd my eyes as I turned the lamp on and I took a seat in the tall chair and the house was cold and silent and I stared at the wall and the stack of papers and thought about all the things on the other side of the alarm that I was dreading and one day these paints will take care of that and there will be no alarm and I found an old postcard from someone and smeared white paint around it and found the .03 pen and moved it around and daydreamed about a day without the alarm and this went on for a while and the postcard was complete and I turned the lamp off and silently went back upstairs and slid into bed and looking at the clock I had just enough time to close my eyes and finish dreaming...Enjoy!
At The Bottom Of The White Box
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I have spent the entire day alone. (I recommend that everyone do this once in a while.) It is now 10:21 PM and my only contact with another human has been at the Chinese take-out and the lady who gave me the finger because she thought it was her turn at the 4-way stop. "Why yes, I would love a fortune cookie," I said to the girl behind the counter. She threw one in and I returned to the quiet house to eat my food. I didn't even bother to take it out of the little white box and took a seat at the desk and there was a Thelonious Monk Pandora channel on and as I ate I had lonely conversations with myself in which I am fairly certain that I solved all the worlds problems and was certain that only good was going to come from that moment forward. "My fortune cookie will be the test," I thought to myself. I grabbed the cookie and broke it open and flipped the fortune over to read, "Made In The USA". What the hell is that? Made In The USA? That is no fortune.That was it, no words of wisdom, just that. I couldn't help feeling a bit midlead by the words "Fortune Cookie" on the wrapper. I threw the fortune on the desk, picked up the brush and went to the conversations with myself.
I Will Take This Day
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It is 3:00 PM in the afternoon and this painting is leaning up against the wall just to the right of the computer monitor and as I look at it, I am having trouble figuring out where to begin. I never write in the afternoon and I swear the words come out best when the rest of the world is asleep. While I feel the keys under my fingertips I imagine everyone driving in cars, at the movies, buying pants, getting coffee in large paper cups, standing in lines at stores with carts full of packaged tomorrow, in resturants, at stoplights, in airports, on busses and on and on and on and all the while I sit here in this quiet house with the shades pulled open and the cool winter sunlight shines on my back and I try to remember what it is that I wanted to say about this painting but it doesn't seem to really matter now. The only thing that really matters is that it is 3:06 and I have these words and this painting and for right now all the other stuff has nothing to do with it.
And I Fell Out Of Bed Twice
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I remember laying on the floor in my room and my feet were propped up on the bed and I stared up at the ceiling fan, getting lost in it going around and around and there was music (because there always is) and I remember the lyrics still to this day and he sang "Fifteen minutes with you, Oh, I wouldn't say no... " and on the other side of the door in the other room I knew he was there with his cigarettes burning away in the ashtray with his anger and ignorance and general dislike but somehow it didn't matter for a change because now there was love and I was in it and everything else flew away on the spinning blades of the fan above me.
The Light From The Other Lamp
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At the moment, there are two lamps on in this room. One is over there on the table where the paints and brushes are and there are also small speakers over there with music falling out of them. The other lamp is here, near the keys and the emails and the web pages and where the words rise and fall and all fates are determined for what is done on the other table
under the other lamp.
This painting was under the other lamp with the paints up until just a few minutes ago. As I looked down over it while putting the final signature on it I paused and let it just be a painting for a moment. Like something organic and unique and genuine with no other desire than to just lay there on the table and be complete.
When it finally gets moved to this desk, under this lamp, the wheels are set in motion for it to become something else.
At the moment, there are two lamps on in this room and it is time for me to turn this one off.
In The Slow Movements In The Hands Of A Clock
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There was a line in a poem that
I read this afternoon that I cannot
remember now and I am too lazy to
hunt it down for you and
I think the dead writer
deserves better than what
I have to offer
him now.
Which is not much.
There was a line in a poem that
I read this afternoon that I knew
that I would forget as soon as
I turned the page
like I always do but
who reads poetry anyway and
I feel real sorry for those that
write it because in the end
the words are only that and
it doesn't matter how many times you hit the enter key
as it is only another poem on another day and
another try at getting it right but
I think the dead writer
deserves better than what
I have to offer
him now.
Which is not much.
The Old Russian Is Long Gone And So Is Young Holden
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I am too tired to smile right now but that doesn't necessarily mean that I am unhappy. It really is more about staring at the letters on these keys and that they aren't saying a single thing back to me. Between the Tchaikovsky that is in the air and the yellow glow of my desk lamp there is a space in which I am having trouble finding anything meaningful. Not just to pound here on the typer but to put up there above the eyes and under the chest. In the stack of books to my right I can see Holden Caulfield in there running around New York and I have been meaning to give that book another go but I am afraid of finding out that sixteen year old me is much further away from the old man me, than I like to think.
That is the problem with revisiting certain things from your past. You are sure that you have come a long way since then and hope that where you are is better than where you were.
The old Russian is long gone and now Chopin quietly shares two nocturnes for piano and I fall into the spaces between the notes and I can't help but think that this is the place where you will find yourself and in between these notes I forget Holden and forget that stack of books and now the words are coming out and the keys are speaking to me finally and I start to see that it is the space between the keys and the letters and the words, where we will find everything else that we need to move us through this place.
It Is Late And We All Have Our Reasons
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There are nights
when only a few words
is all that is needed and
tonight is one of
those nights.
It is not a night for
long winded melacholy or
trying to find yourself in the
pieces of a broken mirror.
There are nights
when only a few words
is all that is needed and
tonight is one of
those nights and
these are those words.
The Long Arms Of Winter Are Around Me
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there is green
grass and sunlight and
warmth and breeze and a
drink out back
with her and
there are ice cubes and
her arms are bare because
the sun wants
it that way.
as I raise one to my mouth
the outside of the glass
prespires and feels
perfect under the fingertips
and the sun on my neck
means we are a long
way from this winter and
as I open my eyes
I know I am months away
from this and
until then I will close my eyes
and see it
all over again.
...Enjoy!
