Caw. Boom.
Heh heh heh.
Friday, July 25, 2008
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Visitor's Pass
“Once upon a time, my dad gave me some great advice. He said ‘Son, if anything gets through to you today, make it this: Creedence Clearwater Revival is the greatest band of all time. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.’” The child giggled behind him.
Carl turned up the car stereo a little bit louder and smiled. If Janet found out about the fact he played anything other than classical music with the boy she would have a conniption. Oh well, he reasoned. I turned out alright, so a little rock couldn’t hurt. It wasn’t like Simon could understand the words anyway.
He enjoyed these little moments. Carl didn’t know how much fun being a dad would be. All he ever heard from his friends was that life became torture when you get kids. All the screaming and the pooping and the fighting would take over his life and there would be nothing but misery. Nine months of dread lead to one of the greatest things that ever happened to him.
Over the past year, Carl eased into the father role quite nicely. Sure it was tough at first, until he quit his job. He didn’t make as much as Janet anyways, so him being the stay-at-home was an easy decision. He hated working anyways. Janet didn’t seem to mind, and she was all the more genial with her boys when she got home. He figured it was a trade-off. She had nine months of weird biology and intense emotional and physical pain, so he gets to make sure the aftermath turns out alright until he hits preschool. Once you get past the screaming and pooping, it wasn’t so bad.
Carl drifted into the passing lane, watching the eighteen-wheeler wobble a little to his right. He didn’t pay it much attention; this was Houston, bad truckers were a fact of life.
The truck wobbled a bit more.
***
Janet, briefcase in hand, walked through the glass doors. Out of one world into another, she thought. Outside it was quite warm and sunny, a perfect day. Of all the days of the year, why did she come today? Part of her didn’t want to go through with it. Every time she came here she just got angry. The other part of her still missed him. She felt partly responsible, anyways. He didn’t exactly come here on purpose.
“Hello there, ma’am, how can I help you?” chirped the matronly nurse at the front desk.
“Hi, yes, I’m Janet Schwarzwald. I’m here to see my… I’m here to see Carl?”
“Of course you are.” Janet hated this nurse. Hated. She reminded Janet of her aunt Imogene, the one with the dolls and the powder and the house that felt like a big, pink, fluffy tomb. “Here’s your visitor’s pass. You know where to go?”
“Yes. Thank you.” As she started walking away, Janet got the sudden urge to leave. She wanted to leave this big white maze and never see it again. She never wanted to see HER again. However, she did want to see Carl again. She wasn’t going to run away from this.
Down, down, down she went through the twisty white corridors of the psych ward.
***
Carl was sitting at the table he usually had whenever she visited him, writing on some construction paper with a bright orange crayon. Her heels clicked louder in here than it did in the halls. A few orderlies monitoring the room nodded to her as she approached him. Carl looked up at her and smiled.
“Janet!” he squealed.
She couldn’t help but smile. This was the easy part.
“Hey there. How are you?”
“About as usual. There’s never enough paper around to write that novel I always talked about. Oh well. If they keep me here a few more years I’ll have the most colorful crayon novel ever written. Well, scrawled. My fingers don’t work so well anymore, but you already knew that.”
“Well you seem in good spirits,” said Janet.
“What can I say? I’m supposed to be crazy. Why not change things up a bit.”
Maybe this won’t be so hard. I’ll just say it when he’s rambling and maybe he won’t notice.
“You’re obviously not that crazy,” she said.
“Oh really? Then why won’t they let me go home?”
Oops. Janet cursed herself for saying that. No going back now.
“So what brings you here today? Anything new? Or are you just checking in on your favorite psycho? Let me guess, you want crazy crazy-person sex in the crazy house, don’t you? Don’t worry, I do to. Just think of fun we could have in the padded rooms…”
Janet started laughing. He always could make her laugh. Even after the accident and before… Damn it. Keep it together, and say it. Take a deep breath and say it. Here it goes.
“I’ve been thinking.”
All of the light left Carl’s eyes. He put down the crayon he’d been fidgeting with.
“Don’t say it,” he said.
“I’ve been thinking about—“
“Don’t say it. Don’t you dare say it. Just a few more months, I’ll be out, and things will be just like it was.”
“No it won’t Carl, and that’s the point. It won’t be the same. Nothing is the same. We could never be the same. Not after what happened to him. Not after what happened to you.”
Carl sat there and started looking down again. Janet pulled the briefcase onto the table and opened it.
“Please don’t do this.”
“I have to, Carl. I want a divorce.”
She said it.
“So you don’t love me anymore, is that it Janet? Is that what you came here to say?”
Janet continued to rifle through her briefcase. “Of course I still love you, Carl.”
“Than… okay, now that just doesn’t make any sense. If you still love me, why do you want a divorce? I thought we were going to stick this out. I thought you would be there for me.”
Silence from Janet.
“It’s because I killed him, isn’t it? It’s…”
Janet found the papers and placed them in from of Carl. She had to say it. I don’t care if it destroys him, she thought, I need to say it.
“Carl, you know you didn’t kill him” she said. “You and your doctors, you’ve been through all that. Whether you want to accept it or not, that is up to you. Simon’s death wasn’t your fault. What is your fault is that you left me first.”
Carl looked up.
“That’s right, you left me. When you put that knife to your wrist, you were leaving me. You were going to leave me without anyone. You think I didn’t think about it too? You think I didn’t want out? He was my son, too. You weren’t the only person that lost him.”
“You didn’t see him though,” said Carl “You didn’t see how that truck’s axle sliced through his... his…” Carl held in a sob and took a breath. “You weren’t there.”
“Yeah, I wasn’t there Carl. But I was there afterwards. I was there with you for the funeral. I cried for months, or don’t you remember? I was there for you, damn it. I thought you would do the same. You were going to hold me up when I needed it. But no. One day, you just decided to leave me alone.”
Carl just kept looking down.
“I’ve been keeping this in for a long time, Carl. Yeah, I was going to keep it in. I didn’t know you’d be in here for this long. I didn’t know it would be this bad. I talked to your doctor before I walked in. He said you keep on trying to kill yourself. That you tried to bash your head in against this very table. That you constantly try to choke yourself with these crayons. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t wait for you. Especially since you haven’t made any effort to get better.”
Silence hung over the table. Carl fidgeted with the orange crayon. Janet tried to take in what she just said.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“I’m not trying to get away from you,” he said.
“I know that,” she replied. “God, I’m sorry. It wasn’t fair of me to say that. It sounded a hell of a lot less selfish in my head.”
“Sure it did,” he quipped. “A lot of crazy things sound better in our heads. Remember, you’re talking to someone with suicidal tendencies.”
Janet smiled, hoping the anger in his voice would go away if she cooled off. “Yeah. I know. God, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I said it like that. The truth is, I-“
“No,” snapped Carl. “No need. I get it. You’re tired of it.” Carl took the divorce papers and signed them with the orange crayon. “Well, Janet, it was nice seeing you.”
“Carl, don’t—I said it wrong, I didn’t mean it like I said. I just—“
“You just want me to go away so you can live a normal life, I get it. One of us has to, right? It might as well be the one who didn’t try to commit suicide. I’ll see you later. Until next time, eh Jan?”
“Carl I—“ Janet started to protest, but figured the damage had been done.
Janet got her briefcase and walked away. Through the halls and past the chirpy nurse into the parking lot. She got to her car, and cried.
Carl turned up the car stereo a little bit louder and smiled. If Janet found out about the fact he played anything other than classical music with the boy she would have a conniption. Oh well, he reasoned. I turned out alright, so a little rock couldn’t hurt. It wasn’t like Simon could understand the words anyway.
He enjoyed these little moments. Carl didn’t know how much fun being a dad would be. All he ever heard from his friends was that life became torture when you get kids. All the screaming and the pooping and the fighting would take over his life and there would be nothing but misery. Nine months of dread lead to one of the greatest things that ever happened to him.
Over the past year, Carl eased into the father role quite nicely. Sure it was tough at first, until he quit his job. He didn’t make as much as Janet anyways, so him being the stay-at-home was an easy decision. He hated working anyways. Janet didn’t seem to mind, and she was all the more genial with her boys when she got home. He figured it was a trade-off. She had nine months of weird biology and intense emotional and physical pain, so he gets to make sure the aftermath turns out alright until he hits preschool. Once you get past the screaming and pooping, it wasn’t so bad.
Carl drifted into the passing lane, watching the eighteen-wheeler wobble a little to his right. He didn’t pay it much attention; this was Houston, bad truckers were a fact of life.
The truck wobbled a bit more.
***
Janet, briefcase in hand, walked through the glass doors. Out of one world into another, she thought. Outside it was quite warm and sunny, a perfect day. Of all the days of the year, why did she come today? Part of her didn’t want to go through with it. Every time she came here she just got angry. The other part of her still missed him. She felt partly responsible, anyways. He didn’t exactly come here on purpose.
“Hello there, ma’am, how can I help you?” chirped the matronly nurse at the front desk.
“Hi, yes, I’m Janet Schwarzwald. I’m here to see my… I’m here to see Carl?”
“Of course you are.” Janet hated this nurse. Hated. She reminded Janet of her aunt Imogene, the one with the dolls and the powder and the house that felt like a big, pink, fluffy tomb. “Here’s your visitor’s pass. You know where to go?”
“Yes. Thank you.” As she started walking away, Janet got the sudden urge to leave. She wanted to leave this big white maze and never see it again. She never wanted to see HER again. However, she did want to see Carl again. She wasn’t going to run away from this.
Down, down, down she went through the twisty white corridors of the psych ward.
***
Carl was sitting at the table he usually had whenever she visited him, writing on some construction paper with a bright orange crayon. Her heels clicked louder in here than it did in the halls. A few orderlies monitoring the room nodded to her as she approached him. Carl looked up at her and smiled.
“Janet!” he squealed.
She couldn’t help but smile. This was the easy part.
“Hey there. How are you?”
“About as usual. There’s never enough paper around to write that novel I always talked about. Oh well. If they keep me here a few more years I’ll have the most colorful crayon novel ever written. Well, scrawled. My fingers don’t work so well anymore, but you already knew that.”
“Well you seem in good spirits,” said Janet.
“What can I say? I’m supposed to be crazy. Why not change things up a bit.”
Maybe this won’t be so hard. I’ll just say it when he’s rambling and maybe he won’t notice.
“You’re obviously not that crazy,” she said.
“Oh really? Then why won’t they let me go home?”
Oops. Janet cursed herself for saying that. No going back now.
“So what brings you here today? Anything new? Or are you just checking in on your favorite psycho? Let me guess, you want crazy crazy-person sex in the crazy house, don’t you? Don’t worry, I do to. Just think of fun we could have in the padded rooms…”
Janet started laughing. He always could make her laugh. Even after the accident and before… Damn it. Keep it together, and say it. Take a deep breath and say it. Here it goes.
“I’ve been thinking.”
All of the light left Carl’s eyes. He put down the crayon he’d been fidgeting with.
“Don’t say it,” he said.
“I’ve been thinking about—“
“Don’t say it. Don’t you dare say it. Just a few more months, I’ll be out, and things will be just like it was.”
“No it won’t Carl, and that’s the point. It won’t be the same. Nothing is the same. We could never be the same. Not after what happened to him. Not after what happened to you.”
Carl sat there and started looking down again. Janet pulled the briefcase onto the table and opened it.
“Please don’t do this.”
“I have to, Carl. I want a divorce.”
She said it.
“So you don’t love me anymore, is that it Janet? Is that what you came here to say?”
Janet continued to rifle through her briefcase. “Of course I still love you, Carl.”
“Than… okay, now that just doesn’t make any sense. If you still love me, why do you want a divorce? I thought we were going to stick this out. I thought you would be there for me.”
Silence from Janet.
“It’s because I killed him, isn’t it? It’s…”
Janet found the papers and placed them in from of Carl. She had to say it. I don’t care if it destroys him, she thought, I need to say it.
“Carl, you know you didn’t kill him” she said. “You and your doctors, you’ve been through all that. Whether you want to accept it or not, that is up to you. Simon’s death wasn’t your fault. What is your fault is that you left me first.”
Carl looked up.
“That’s right, you left me. When you put that knife to your wrist, you were leaving me. You were going to leave me without anyone. You think I didn’t think about it too? You think I didn’t want out? He was my son, too. You weren’t the only person that lost him.”
“You didn’t see him though,” said Carl “You didn’t see how that truck’s axle sliced through his... his…” Carl held in a sob and took a breath. “You weren’t there.”
“Yeah, I wasn’t there Carl. But I was there afterwards. I was there with you for the funeral. I cried for months, or don’t you remember? I was there for you, damn it. I thought you would do the same. You were going to hold me up when I needed it. But no. One day, you just decided to leave me alone.”
Carl just kept looking down.
“I’ve been keeping this in for a long time, Carl. Yeah, I was going to keep it in. I didn’t know you’d be in here for this long. I didn’t know it would be this bad. I talked to your doctor before I walked in. He said you keep on trying to kill yourself. That you tried to bash your head in against this very table. That you constantly try to choke yourself with these crayons. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t wait for you. Especially since you haven’t made any effort to get better.”
Silence hung over the table. Carl fidgeted with the orange crayon. Janet tried to take in what she just said.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“I’m not trying to get away from you,” he said.
“I know that,” she replied. “God, I’m sorry. It wasn’t fair of me to say that. It sounded a hell of a lot less selfish in my head.”
“Sure it did,” he quipped. “A lot of crazy things sound better in our heads. Remember, you’re talking to someone with suicidal tendencies.”
Janet smiled, hoping the anger in his voice would go away if she cooled off. “Yeah. I know. God, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I said it like that. The truth is, I-“
“No,” snapped Carl. “No need. I get it. You’re tired of it.” Carl took the divorce papers and signed them with the orange crayon. “Well, Janet, it was nice seeing you.”
“Carl, don’t—I said it wrong, I didn’t mean it like I said. I just—“
“You just want me to go away so you can live a normal life, I get it. One of us has to, right? It might as well be the one who didn’t try to commit suicide. I’ll see you later. Until next time, eh Jan?”
“Carl I—“ Janet started to protest, but figured the damage had been done.
Janet got her briefcase and walked away. Through the halls and past the chirpy nurse into the parking lot. She got to her car, and cried.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Sorry Sorry
I haven't posted in a while, but I am working on something. Should be finished in a a day or two. It's too late to work on it right now. I am tired and require rest. For now...
Mood: Sleepy
Music: Antichrist Television Blues by the Arcade Fire
Mood: Sleepy
Music: Antichrist Television Blues by the Arcade Fire
Thursday, July 10, 2008
An Empty Glass
Author's note: These characters are part of a larger story yet to be written. I just wanted to tool around with them for a while, get a better feel for them.
Now Playing: Oslo in the Summertime by Of Montreal
The glass sat on a bar stool next to the faux-art-deco stainless steel lamp in the corner of the apartment. Dan had been staring at it for nearly five minutes when Carrie came and sat next to him on the couch. He didn’t notice her. He was lost in thought, boring a mental hole into the translucent green glass.
“Dan,” said Carrie. “Earth to Dan. Come in, Dan. The apes have gained sentience, and now they demand literature.”
“Hrm?” Dan turned to her.
“You have got to be the worst partier on the planet, you know that? All you’ve done tonight is making odd remarks whenever you feel you need a beer, get the beer, drink the beer, and resume staring at nothing.”
“I’m not staring at nothing, Carrie.”
“It sure looks like you’re staring at nothing.”
“Well, I’m not.”
Carrie sat back in the couch and sighed. “You know, everyone else is excited to be here. All the actors are feeling up on each other, and Gene’s over there… doing whatever Gene does.” Gene was, in fact, having a Socratic philosophical discussion with a houseplant over the morality of said houseplant, all the while surrounded by most of the partygoers. Some were so inspired they began to dance interpretively.
Dan glanced at the scene. “Wow. That fichus plant has more talent than the lead actress tonight.”
“See, Dan, it’s things like that that make people not like you.”
“I never asked to be liked.”
“Could it hurt?”
“Yes.”
Carrie paused for a moment. “Of course it could.” she said. “That isn’t the point. The point is, you need to get off this couch and at least look like you’re having a good time. You just had your first play performed, got a standing ovation, and all you can do is sulk.”
“I’m not sulking.”
“Well what the hell are you doing?”
Dan slowly turned to her. “I’m looking at that glass over there.”
Carrie looked at him, then the glass, and back to Dan. “So?”
“So, I’m looking at it in order to figure out where I am.”
Carrie stood up, walked over the glass and knocked it over.
“Where are you now, Dan?”
Now Playing: Oslo in the Summertime by Of Montreal
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Cover-up
“Here,” she said, “put this bag in the glove box, honey.”
“Why? What’s in it?”
“Don’t look at it. You’re going to need it later.”
Sam obeyed hesitantly. What on earth would he need? Least of all… ah, who knows. He figured when he got there he would understand.
She kept driving, erratic and uncontrolled. Trees and children flashed by, all were menacing, all dead. The limbs of the trees twisted into infinitely smaller fingers, sprightly and pointed to each other. Sam caught the gaze of another dead child, only for a moment though as the car’s tire rolled over it, sending that gaze deep into the rubber and concrete.
After about twenty minutes of driving, she stopped by the edge of a creek.
“Here we are,” she said. “Get the bag, and get out of the car.”
Again he obeyed. She made her way down to the creek, him following as if in a trance. When they got there he about asked her a question, but paused when he saw she had started crying.
“They weren’t supposed to die,” she said. “None of you were. It was all a mistake.”
Sam wanted to go to her, comfort her, but knew there was nothing he could do. Not now.
“Look in the bag, Sam.”
Sam obeyed once more. Inside was a thin rectangular device, adorned with one large accusatory button.
“Press it.”
“Why—“
“Just do it. The world can’t know of what I’ve done.”
“What did you do, Mom?”
“Push the button, damn it!”
She lunged for the device, tears streaming down her face. She wrenched it out of her son’s hand, hugged him, and pressed the button.
The fire purged the land. The rain cleansed it. All that remained were ash, rocks, and a very large hole where the base used to be.
Now Playing: The End of a Dark Campaign by Oh, Sleeper
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
An Unexpected Death
Let's start off with something less depressing, then go whole hog into the downward spiral of sadness. School started again this week, this time the professor is a white-haired old man with incredibly interesting stories that have absolutely nothing to do with the class at hand. At least the subject material is interesting. Victorian era literature ho!
And now to the meat of it.
I learned that a 53 year old man died today in my apartment complex. This struck me as odd, considering I live in an University apartment. It makes me kind of sad that I never met the man. Apparently he had family, so at least he wasn't alone in the world. Still, to die in an apartment complex like this, it had to be a little depressing.
I wonder what his life was like, and what drove him to go back to school at 53. I wonder what he had seen, if he found love, if he led a good life. I wonder if we would have gotten along if we met.
I hope he was loved. I hope he is mourned. I hope his memory lives on past this blog, because I didn't even know him, and that would the be the cruelest joke of all.
Mood: melancholy
Now Playing: Apology Song by The Decemberists
And now to the meat of it.
I learned that a 53 year old man died today in my apartment complex. This struck me as odd, considering I live in an University apartment. It makes me kind of sad that I never met the man. Apparently he had family, so at least he wasn't alone in the world. Still, to die in an apartment complex like this, it had to be a little depressing.
I wonder what his life was like, and what drove him to go back to school at 53. I wonder what he had seen, if he found love, if he led a good life. I wonder if we would have gotten along if we met.
I hope he was loved. I hope he is mourned. I hope his memory lives on past this blog, because I didn't even know him, and that would the be the cruelest joke of all.
Mood: melancholy
Now Playing: Apology Song by The Decemberists
Friday, July 4, 2008
AAAAAAAAAAAAmerica!
Sorry about the noise, I'll try to keep it down. It's just so patriotic in here...
Something has been going on this week, and I'm not sure what it is. I keep getting put in the position to help random strangers. Of course I do help them, mostly to their surprise, which is odd because I never really go out of my way to help them. I gave a ride to a woman from Wal-mart who didn't have a car and couldn't wait for the bus (perishable goods and whatnot.) I helped a random neighbor at my apartment (who I didn't actually know) move a couch. I wouldn't be surprised at all if tomorrow something similar happened.
In any case, things are going pretty well. Finals were over yesterday, which makes me ever so giddy. I went to go see the Team America Singalong with Jack, Noel, Stephy and her friend Roni last night, which was awesome. Well, the experience was, the movie itself is terrible, but in that context (i.e. drunken nerds all over) it was quite entertaining. I watched the fireworks in San Marcos tonight, as well as a couple of dvds for filler.
Overall, my life is pretty good right now. I haven't had a moment's peace in a while, and so this is giving me a chance to have some much needed sleep and relaxation.
Mood: patriotically peaceful
Music: Country Death Song by the Violent Femmes
Something has been going on this week, and I'm not sure what it is. I keep getting put in the position to help random strangers. Of course I do help them, mostly to their surprise, which is odd because I never really go out of my way to help them. I gave a ride to a woman from Wal-mart who didn't have a car and couldn't wait for the bus (perishable goods and whatnot.) I helped a random neighbor at my apartment (who I didn't actually know) move a couch. I wouldn't be surprised at all if tomorrow something similar happened.
In any case, things are going pretty well. Finals were over yesterday, which makes me ever so giddy. I went to go see the Team America Singalong with Jack, Noel, Stephy and her friend Roni last night, which was awesome. Well, the experience was, the movie itself is terrible, but in that context (i.e. drunken nerds all over) it was quite entertaining. I watched the fireworks in San Marcos tonight, as well as a couple of dvds for filler.
Overall, my life is pretty good right now. I haven't had a moment's peace in a while, and so this is giving me a chance to have some much needed sleep and relaxation.
Mood: patriotically peaceful
Music: Country Death Song by the Violent Femmes
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Stranded on the Memory Aisle: 1st Grade
"Don't talk during class," she said.
Mrs. Good hated not being the center of attention.
Andrew was a good friend. I wonder why nobody else talked to him.
Marshall said something to me, all I heard was a faint hum from her lips.
She threw like a boy.
Andrew told me that we should get out of there.
I told him no.
We didn't talk much after that.
The Berenstein Bears never told me how to deal with that.
Old rubber hit my face an hour after that.
Guess who threw the ball.
I'm glad I got detention that day. Andrew started talking to me by
The end of the day.
Mood: pensive
Music: Carry Me Ohio by Sun Kil Moon
Mrs. Good hated not being the center of attention.
Andrew was a good friend. I wonder why nobody else talked to him.
Marshall said something to me, all I heard was a faint hum from her lips.
She threw like a boy.
Andrew told me that we should get out of there.
I told him no.
We didn't talk much after that.
The Berenstein Bears never told me how to deal with that.
Old rubber hit my face an hour after that.
Guess who threw the ball.
I'm glad I got detention that day. Andrew started talking to me by
The end of the day.
Mood: pensive
Music: Carry Me Ohio by Sun Kil Moon
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
BOM open for business!
Good news, everyone! I have a new blog! Good luck finding it. I'm pretty sure only one person is going to read this thing, and that guy is probably me. I'll probably only be using this blog for personal journal stuff, dream journals, poetry, etc. I may feel creative and start making this a poetry blog. Great ideas, yeah? I feel the need to create, and now I have a means without being having every Tom, Dick and Harry commenting like crazy.
PERSONAL TRIVIA: I AM TALLER THAN THE TALLEST SNAKE, FOR THEY HAVE NO LEGS.
Mood: snarky
Music: Close your eyes-we are blind by Alaska in Winter.
PERSONAL TRIVIA: I AM TALLER THAN THE TALLEST SNAKE, FOR THEY HAVE NO LEGS.
Mood: snarky
Music: Close your eyes-we are blind by Alaska in Winter.
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