It goes without saying, my wife and I are not traditional people. Our values are common, if not distorted in design by our own personal conceptions of what values should … Continue reading Getting Ahead of the Game… A Different Kind of Year…
Something about staying in my house for days on end appeals to me. I have been blessed with a life where I don’t have to go out in public if … Continue reading Hermitage… A Wealth of Food… Connecting with the Living
My mailbox was full… that, I am sure. As for the rest of the night, it could have been madness – the kind of madness sinking and rotting into the soul, when the soul has been spent and left in a city.
The city of Winston/Salem. That is where I found myself two nights ago. It was dark: past nine PM. Security Guards were checking permits, and doing their duties/jobs. Their white negro smiles and batons ablaze…
And what was I doing?
I was looking to smoke a cigarette. You would think a city such as Winston/Salem would support such behavior. It is the American Tobacco Motherland. Hell, two brands of popular smokes originated in that concrete jungle of hypocrisy. Because of nicotine junkies like me, there is such a city, never mind the hospitals the cigarette companies paid for.
What started as a low – a low evening, in wait – turned even lower, still.
God bless the big man from the gas station (he gave me the book of free matches). That was a long hike from the hospital. It was a BP gas station. He would not permit me to simply use a lighter. My pockets were already carrying around discarded, half-and-quarter cigarette butts from the streets.
This was a mirror to my past – and its desperation.
I have walked MANY streets. Been down some dark alleys… the type with glowing eyes and razorblades in the corners.
I’m not sure what came first. The dumb, stuttering and stupid, pathetic attacks… or, the thought to rationalize them. What could not – would not – be rationalized was the horror with which my wife found herself. A man – her man – sick in the brain, and still wanting nothing more than to fill his cup with overflowing addictions and predilections…
My hundred yes, yes, yeses to the sky, and to the air around me, served as my mantra to go on. To finish this rotten endeavor I’d put myself into: smoke a damn cigarette within 30 mins. And then back to my hospital room, back to the mechanical bed and television. I was NOT looking forward to going back to the room, the endless television, and the many “check-ins” with the nurses throughout the night. The damn blood-pressure cuff, needles…
Truth be told, I was LOST. I walked around and around the massive, massive medical building.
(I think I entered into seven different ENTRANCES/EXITS.)
Just being lost – not in the city – just LOST around a building, IN THE MIDDLE of the night was crazy enough. I was out of breath, hot… feeling lonely… and all the wonders in-between served me well.
I DID NOT have to be in a hospital.
That is what I came up with.
I NEED TO BE HOME!
So many exciting things are happening. One moment, my head is barely able to be lifted off the pillow to wake up (don’t worry, that is normal before the “ritual” begins), & the next moment, I’m head-crazy excited about a story. A story I care deeply about – including an interview with a renowned, important poet, travel, luxury – has presented itself to me.
I’m heading back to Louisville, KY.
Assignment: Cover GonzoFest, 2022, on October 29th.
It was one of my favorite things at the theme park. Just the outside view of it seemed daunting, haunted, and so much fun. I was a kid. I’m not … Continue reading Gory Gruesome & Grotesque: Memories
She is not a nurse. She is a phlebotomist. I’m not sure what that is, let alone how to spell it. (That’s right, I had to use spellcheck on that … Continue reading There is Blood
– Taylorsville, North Carolina, 5:13 PM. As some of you may have read earlier, I was one angry writer. And I’m not going to apologize for the crude & explicit … Continue reading Late June Afternoon
When someone I love or admire is attacked, my first obligation is to the victim. To assure them there are many cowards in the world – the type of people … Continue reading Some Things I Just Won’t Take
It used to mean so much to me. I wasn’t sure if I was covering up myself with all those rings & necklaces & bracelets… covering myself up, or decorating … Continue reading Ornaments Are Meant To Be Put Away