C.A.U.S.E.

untitled

2008-07-24T02:11:00.000-07:00

When my sons are asleep, and Sophia is doing her thing, or passed out as well, it's my time. Often I go to the back porch, where from behind the oaks in my yard I can watch the moon rise over the vineyard, just beyond the horse pasture, while I puff a blunt or two and maybe sip a drink. Next to my chair on the porch is a table covered with my books, my current reads. Right now there's a Bible, two translations of The I Ching, Prepare For War by Rebecca Brown MD., a copy of Why Be Moral? by Archie J. Bahm and The Tao of Pooh by Benjamin Hoff. Also two composition books; one black, for my I Ching inquiries, and a green one where I take notes. Usually after I have been sitting out there doing my thing for a while I compel myself to come in and write. I try to use my time wisely, so I do this as much as possible.

Tonight I read and interesting story in the life of Chuang-tse while reading the Tao of Pooh.

"While sitting on the banks of the P'u River, Chuang-tse was approached by two representatives of the Prince Ch'u, who offered him a position at court. Chuang-tse watched the water flow by as if he had not heard. Finally, he remarked, "I am told that the Prince has a sacred tortoise, over two thousand years old, which is kept in a box, wrapped in silk and brocade." "That is true," the officials replied. "If the tortoise had been given a choice," Chuang-tse continued, "which do you think he would have liked better--to have been alive in the mud, or dead in the palace?" "To have been alive in the mud, of course," the men answered. "I too prefer the mud," said Chuang-tse. "Goodbye.""

That's some fuckin ancient wisdom right there.

Square Peg Round Hole

2008-07-24T02:03:00.000-07:00

*Took me months to write this. Then I realized I could write it in two days, so I did. Glad it's over and done. Im quite proud of it though.*

The sun was rising as he left camp, heading south along the base of a big steep hill covered with hard yellow earth. Here and there jagged rocks pierced the surface, carved and broken by time, and a few oaktrees; their thick coarse arms extending out just above the slope were sparse with leaves. Then east up the face of the hill, using an old deer-trail to ascend.

The morning sun was bright and low. Shadows settled where the glowing rays couldn't reach. He stood in the quiet stillness listening when he reached the top of the ridge. He stared towards the rising sun. Below was an open field, a narrow creek bed like a vain through the valley ran dry, it's banks covered with thick grass. Beyond that lay a thick of trees wich hugged the shores of a lake, it's waters calm and glass green.

Just before him a bit down the hill was a wall of thick bursh and weeds, he peered across the wall for an easy way through but found none. Thrashing around the brush for a bit he made it through to the other side. He took the flask from his back pocket and set it on the rocky hillside, then after setting his rifle down he retrieved a cigarette from his breast pocket, lit it, then placed his lighter back in his pocket next to the pack of cigarettes. Then he pulled a sanwhich out of his knapsack and ate it.

He took a knee. He took his hand and gently rubbed it up and down the barrel of the rifle. It's cool, smooth steele felt sturdy and sure. If there was something out there to shoot, he intended to kill it. Unscrewing the cap to the flask again, he sniffed the Bourbon before swallowing down the biting liquid. He clenched his body against the burning in his stomach, took another swallow, dragged his cigarette, then snuffed it out. He threw the rifle over his shoulder before setting off down the hill again.

When he reached the bottom he stood in the rays of the rising sun and listened. He could hear nothing. Being a mile or so from camp he was mindful not to wander too far. He decided to make a quick sweep of the lake befor heading back to camp, since all had seen was some old tracks and coyote scat. He crossed the dry creek bed, stones tumbled under his feet as he leapt across. He made his way across the field to the forest of trees. More oaks with broader fuller leaves than the ones found on the hillside. Giant pines, and here and there a redwood tree towered above the oaks, their thin branches with spindly needles creating green triangles against the blue summer sky.

As quietly as he could he made his way through the wood to the other side. He stood close to the tree line and watched the wide open lake shore. A falcon in flight reflected off the sheen of the calm aqua green water. He walked one hundred yards or so, then crouched against a tree trunk and lit another cigarette from his breast pocket. Carefully he leaned the gun against the trunk, within reach. He was simply watching when he noticed a noise, just up the shore, in the brush. A rafter of turkeys appeared and some went to the water for a drink. A moment later he saw in the distance a herd of wild horses in full gallop towards the lake from across the valley. They appeared up shore from the rafter, and the herd too began to drink. One horse stood tall, her flame red coat glistened on her haunches in the bright sun; she was beautiful, a sight to behold. She moved with the very essence of the wilderness, and seemed the embodiment of it, she was the spirit of the forest. She pricked his ears, sniffed the air, then stared directly at the man who was crouched against the stump, and made eye contact.

He sat there staring back at the horse, then he reached for his rifle and took aim through the scope at the big gobbler wandering around in the open. The shot rang out and echoed through the valley. The shell casing bounced with a hollow sound against a rock before landing on the the ground. The gobbler fell as the bullet pierced it's heart. And in a split second the rafter of turkeys fluttered back into the wood in a mess of feathers. The herd of horses scattered too at the piercing rumble of the gun, except one.

The flame red mare stood there, looking at the fallen turkey with alarm, and curiousness. The man, who's heart was drumming from the exhiliration of the kill looked on watching. She made her way over to the turkey, then put her head down to sniff it. Quickly she looked up and turned her head towards the man. He got up and began walking to recover his kill, but the horse was blocking his way. Clearly she was angry with him, and when he got close she put her ears back, and her head down while kicking and stomping her front feet. Still he moved toward her until she began to charge him full speed. He turned quickly and ran, her quick hooves thumping the ground inches behind him. The hair stood on his neck as he maxed out his pace, and just when he though he was going to get trampled she let up. He left his rifle leaning on the tree, going back to get it she charged again. He threw his knapsack at her and she reared in anger. Then picking it up in her mouth she shook it violently and threw it into the lake. In a hurry he grabbed his rifle and ran back into the woods.

He couldn't believe what was happening. He sipped his flask, then smoked a cigarette. He found a spot in the brush, peeping through he could still see the mare standing over the dead gobbler. With his rifle in his hand, and a fresh shot of courage in his gut he made his way out into the open and towards the defensive mare. She stood with her jet black mane blowing in the sunny breeze. Then as she began to charge at him again he pointed his gun to the sky. WHAM! WHAM! He let two rounds off as a warning. The mare stopped dead in her tracks and reared fiercely and kicked it's front hooves into the air, screaming the whole time. She did not back down though. She stood there and thrashed her neck about, then gave him an intense stare. He was twenty feet away, and by now he was very angry. He turned the rifle on the horse. He thought about where to shoot her; the brain or the heart, before pulling the trigger. No round discharged. He was out. The rest of his bullets were in the knapsack the mare threw into the lake. "You lucky fuckin horse!" He yelled at her. She stared back with her ears back on her head. "Take it then, you goddam sum'bitch!" And with that he threw his rifle where it landed at the mare's feet in a heap of dust. She looked on, the champion of the forest. He turned and left with nothing.

Just a Dream

2008-07-17T11:18:00.001-07:00

He could tell right away it was New York. The dingy smell of the city, and the way his shoes clacked on the sidewalk as he walked; yes it must be New York.

Under a twilight sky, he wandered the street below. The sidewalk was perfectly kept with rows of trees that lined the clean smooth pavement. Stairs led up to white houses with red trim. They were all so perfect and they all looked the same. The hedges in the front of the houses were green and lush, and ivy climbed the height of the houses. Above the houses ran the train line. Thick iron stairs that led up to the train ramp hidden by the trees, somehow he knew they were there. He curiously walked up the stairs to the front of a house, looking in the front window he only saw his reflection. He switched his focus so that he could see into the house, it was empty and dark.

Maybe this isn't New York, he thought to himself.

He continued down the street. Suddenly he saw a man walking towards him with his head down. He was dressed very simply in a tan suit, his fedora hat hid his face. He could hear his foot steps as he walked closer. When the man in the fedora looked up from the sidewalk, he was rather surprised when he saw who it was. The man in the fedora looked very happy and not surprised at all.

"Tad, is that you?" Asked the man in the fedora.
Tad, a bit confused replied, "Mark. Wow! good to see you. Fancy meeting you here," so he wouldn't sound rude. Mark walked over and embraced Tad with genuine gladness.

They spoke for a moment, in the empty street under twilight. Tad explained how life was back in California.
"Hey you still in the same place as before?" Asked Tad.
Mark got a confused look on his face; like he remembered something he had forgotten, then stared up to the sk with longing, and he pulled his hat from the top of his head and put it to his chest in a clenched fist.. A somber expression took his face, and the light in his eyes became dim. "Naw, man. I live at 75 41st Avenue now," he said with a shadow in his voice.
"Yeah, fuck man, I'm sorry for bouncin' out on you like that. I really feel horrible about the whole thing." Tad said with remorse.
Mark let out chuckle, "It's all good Tad, shit I would've done the same to you. You know that!"
"Yeah, I guess."
"Well, I should go catch my train." Said Mark looking up towards the train rail veiled by the trees. He tipped his hat and bowed, "Take care of yourself out there in California, Tad!"
"Okay. And thanks again for understanding."
"When you left back home I went through your things. I read all your stories. They were good. Everything is just how you left it."
"Huh," said Tad. "Imagine that."
"Do me a favor and write one 'bout me will ya'?"
"Sure thing Mark," chuckled Tad. Not a single word of Tad's writing had ever seen the light of day. He kept them all in his notebook. To himself. Usually he would have been embarrassed knowing his stories had been exposed, but Tad wasn't.

A train whistled in the distance signaling it's approach. Then for a moment nothing moved and the two friends shared an awkward silence as their final farewell. Then Mark turned to climb the stairs up into the crimson twilight.

2008-06-27T10:15:00.001-07:00

Josiah Ham is twenty five years old. He has been writing most of his life. The writer's dream begged Josiah's attention, and when he found it was nothing more than a hopeless pipedream distracting him from reality Josiah became angry, and upset. Nearly driven mad Josiah quit writing in hopes that the feeling would diminish over time. It didn't. With no direction, education, or skills, he soon realized his dreams were all he had. So with nothing to write about, but plenty to say Josiah picked up the pen again, reluctant because he never fancied himself a talented writer to begin with. Josiah uses the pen name Bob Day.

Josiah's life thus far has been filled with immeasurable joy, and heartbreaking pain. He became disillusioned at a young age. This is a small collection of Josiah's writing where he shares his experiences, thoughts, feelings, and creativity; written simply for the reason that he could not turn his back on his dream, even when he tried. The collection will expand until Josiah has 100 post; at which point he will edit, revise, and submit it to literary agents for representation with the tentative title: 100 DAYS: THE PORTRAIT OF A HAVE NOT.

All material © 07-08 J. Ham.

2008-05-16T00:41:00.000-07:00

Life to me is like one big ocean. I'm on a boat all alone, the boat has not sail; it drifts with the tides. How did I get here? I'm not too sure. Where am I? I would really like to know. Where am I going? Sometimes it is calm, and breezy. Other times it is a raging storm, and I am surprised that I am not swallowed up whole by it; but it still feels good. Alone, and adrift in an endless sea.

I found an island. It was all I could ask for, and more than I could have ever imagined. After countless days of solitude and empty horizons I somehow managed to drift here.

Wednesday May 14th/Too Easy

2008-05-14T04:03:00.000-07:00

Sophia gets home at ten. The boys are still up, we're playing LostWind. We do the nightly routine with the boys then put them to sleep. Half-hour later they're getting out of bed refusing to go quietly. It's quarter to eleven before they are asleep.

Sophia and I take a shower, and afterwards I'm looking to score. But I mention something in the shower that triggers an argument. I not only get heated because of what Sophia is saying, but also because any chance I had of doin' somethin' to her goes out the window. After I get out I take a smoke break, and let my dick straighten everything out in my mind. I love Sophia unconditionally, so it's hard to stay mad at her for long. I make a bagel with butter before I creep into the bedroom where's she's sleeping.

I came out and take another smoke break before sitting down to write. This is what came out.

Too Easy

The bitch in front of me has a really nice, brand new Lexus IS 350. She's holding traffic up with it driving under 40, which really irritates me even though I have no where to be anytime soon. I'm eastbound on the 12, approaching Oakmont, I can't wait for this bitch to turn off. she signals to turn into Oakmont and I'm pissed at her so I speed up to get a good look at her, so I can imagine punching her face. She's looks in her eighties, I could see liver spots on her head through her gray, thinning old woman hair, and her dark black sun glasses covered most of her wrinkly face with the hanging flesh. I looked at her slumped over her steering wheel half-dead, and a thought flashed into my head. I made a split second decision to see it through.

I throw my signal on to get in front of her. I get in the right lane, after I turn, slowing up so the old geezer woman will pass on the left. when she does I get behind her and reach in my back pocket for my wallet. I find the business card I'm looking for in it and call the number. The bitch in the Lexus is still driving slow. A 306-hp V6 engine just isn't meant to be driven that way.

I recognize the thick Russian accent that answers the phone.
"Ivan, hey it's-"
"Whose this?"
"Hey it's Dude, from Acura."
"Oh yes, Josie hello, how're doing?" Fucking Russians always call me Josie.
"Yeah good, i just had a question, do you buy new cars?"
"Oh," he laughs. "Hmm, what kind?"
"A Lexus IS 350, lime green."
"Where you get this car?"
"I'm looking at it right now."
"You holding one moment please." Then I can hear him start to speak Russian before the sound goes muffled.
I'm pretty deep into Oakmont now still trailing this bitch, and still mad as hell about the way she drives. A moment later Ivan comes back on, "If you for real, we buy."
My heart stops, I wasn't expecting that answer at all. "How much?" I ask.
"Seven thousand, cash."
"How about ten? It's brand new. I'm looking at it right now."
Ivan shouts Russian to someone, pauses, says something different in Russian, then says: "Ok Josie. Ok. You come to Sacramento with it. Call me ok when you get here." And he hangs up just as the old geezer is pulling the Lexus into her garage. I make note of where she lives before I go to the market to park my car, I leave the key on top of my driver's side tire. Then I call Nic on my cell as I'm walking back to grandma geezer's house.
"Nic, wut's crackin'" I say.
"Nuthin' Dude, wut 'bout you?"
"Nothing. Look, I need you to do me a favor."
"What?"
"Go to Oakmont Market, and pick up my car, ask Pat for a ride, or somethin'. The key's on my tire."
"Why Dude, wut's up?"
"I'll tell you later, just do it for me please."
He says, "Ok."

When I get to the house I check the front door first to see if it's unlocked, it's locked. Then I check the side door of the garage. It's open. The garage is small and neat, the Lexus looks really big sitting in the small box. I am sure to be quiet as I enter the house. Grandma must keep her keys close by, like on a hook, or in her purse. Then for no reason I start to panic thinking maybe she has the key on her, or what if she sees me. I come to when I see the key on a ring, next to the mail on the kitchen table. Down the hall I hear news radio blaring, and there's a pot of boiling water on the new stainless steel stove.

You can hardly heart the motor when I start the car in the garage. It's truely a beauty. Too bad I can't keep her I think to myself, then: That was easier than I imagined. I back out of the garage and set the Navi for Sacramento.

It's not that I stole it because I'm a thief, or I wanted to make money. I just didn't want the old bitch to have the car.

Good Times

2008-05-12T04:07:00.000-07:00

I wrote this in a couple hours. Then I went back and added quotation marks to the dialogue, which is a first for me. I have been reading Hemingway's short stories recently, and Chad Kultgen.

I call my girl. She answers the phone still half asleep. "Long day," she says.
I was calling to remind her of our date. She asks me, "How could I ever forget?". I ride my bike to her house, and an hour later she comes out of her room dressed simply in a blue tank top, that drew attention to her perfect tits, and tight blue jeans that highlight her great ass. Her black hoodie was over her shoulder. She had on the black low top Chuck's I had when I was a kid that I gave to her when I was cleaning my room. I got off the couch, where I was playing Dreamcast with her little brother. "You look fucking gorgeous," I say as she kisses me and says "Hi!". She was wearing the fruity smelling body spray I like so much, and I was already horny as fuck, so I kiss her again. In her room, the evening sun is cutting through the window that your bed is under. On it there was two pillows; one for her, the other's mine. Her feather comforter was messy with a pile of clothes on top of it. That's where I'm trying to get her as I push back into her room while we're still kissing. We take a step back, she stops, saying, "Not now, not now!" She tilts her head back to look me in the eye, then over at her brother. We laugh because he paused his game to watch us make out.

We're in her car, wippin' around town, smoking a blunt. I promise her we can listen to Tragic Kingdom after I hear The Don Killuminati.
"Whatever," she says.
"Hey you lost fair and square."
"Just tell me how to get there." She asks.
After we get lost, we finally park where we see a long row of cars lined up on the side of the road. "I guess this is it," I say. She touches up her makeup while I roll another blunt. "Oh my god! You are so fuckin' sexy." I tell her. I can't help but kiss her, so I do. She kisses me back, then starts to rub my cock, which is bulging in my pants. She laughs so I know that she's in love me. "We should go," I say, she put her hoodie on.

When we get out of the car the moon is up in the clear summer night, and the stars are bright. We cross the wide road. I see people walk down a dark path just off the road in front of me. My vision adjusts to the night as we make our way down the path to the river. There is thick blackberry bushes as tall as me on either side and the path is narrow so we can't hold hands. Instead she walks in front of me. She knows I'm staring at her ass, so she adds a little twist to her hips as she walks. Tall trees with coarse branches, and thick leaves block the starry moonlight leaving the patch pitch black. There is fine layer of dusty golden sand on the ground, underneath it the ground is dry and cracked. We wander down the path in the darkness for a few minutes. We come out on the bank of the river. The water is low, and large tree stumps, branches, and other debris is littered high up on the shore from when the water floods during winter. Across the river trees dot the bank, and thick brush reaches up the dark hill to a quiet road.

There is already a buch of people gathered. In the center of the clearing a huge bonfire is lit, crackling and spitting as the flames rose high into the night. A group of guys walk out of some brush, each carrying as much wood as possible. After they pile the wood next to the fire they dust there hands off and fill there cups at the keg. Through the fire-light I see ray walking towards me.
"Dude, wut's up?" He asks shaking my hand, "Glad you made it!"
"Yeah well, what kinda friend would I be if I missed your birthday?"
"Who's this?" He asks, looking my girl up and down, licking his lips, rubbing his hands together.
Ray is a big mexican with bad acne scars, and he's a shirt tugger too so I'm not to worried about him fucking my girl. He gets hella pussy because he drives a Benz. Tonight is his twenty first birthday.
I introduce the two of them. Ray kisses her hand gently, my girl looks at me and giggles.
"Wasted already are we?" I ask.
"Fuck yeah! Go get one bitch." Rays says to me.
"It's cool, I got it," said my girl and walked away to the keg. Ray stares at her ass and hips with the extra twist 'cause she knows I'm watching.
"Admire, but don't look too long," I say.
"Dude she fine," Ray tells me. "How long y'all been together?"
"Awhile."
Ray turns and squints his eyes into the darkness, where people are walking out of where the path opens to the clearing.
"Catch ya' later dawg," he says, then takes off.
My girl walks up just as I spot Travis in the crowd. She puts a cup filled with beer in my hand. "I saw Alexus over there," she says pointing over past the fire to the water's edge, "Come on," and she grabs my hand and begins to pull me in that direction.
"Hold on, I'll meet you in a sec'," I say, and she gives me a kiss before walking away.

Travis doesn't see me as I walk into him from behind. He turns quick with a fuck you look on his face, then sees it's me. "Aww shit! Wut up dawg?" He says and gives me a warm embrace.
"Nuthin, man. Where the fuck you been?"
"Here, there, everywhere."
I notice that he is wearing the same MJ Bulls Jersey, and Faded blue jeans. His shoes are dirtier too.
I turn to Ray, who Travis was talking too. "Hey last time I was with this motherfucker we were in Roundtable Pizza, and some old man was cleaning out the change machine and all the arcades. And this guy grabs the fucking bag of quarters and a stack of ones off the table and books while the old man was bent down at some arcade." I'm pointing to Travis, he and Ray are both laughing, "Man, he fuckin left me standin' there inside. The old man got up and we both watched him run down the fuckin street with the money, through the window."
"What'd the old geezer do?" Travis asks with a concerned smile.
"He just turned to me and asked what was going on. I told him I had no fuckin Idea, then walked out. the old man just kinda stood there," I tell him laughing because I'm remembering it all over again.
"Dude that's fucking tight!" Says Travis. He and Ray are still laughing hard, they tap there cups together and do a "Cheers!".

Im with Travis, and we're standing on a mound just above the fire. I spark the blunt I rolled in the car, hit it, then pass it to him. We're standind in the shadows chocking on the blunt when we hear the crowd of partiers yell and scream. We look down to where they are and see everyone in a tight circle, and everyone is looking in the center. Guys are screaming, "YEAH!", and girls are screaming, "WHOOOO!", but I can't see what everyone's watching. "Wonder what's going on," I say. The noise quiets down as the blunt goes to ashes completely. Travis and I walk back down to the sea of people. Another group of people is lighting a fire at the edge of the water, and the first one is burning bright. I find my girl still with Alexis.
"Yo what the fuck was that about?" I ask her.
"Oh some skeezy little hoe was givin Ray a blowjob in front of everybody," she says. I laugh and shake my head. Moments later I see a young blonde girl, who has to be a minor. She's in tears, bawling, her friend has her arm around her. They walk past me towards the dark path back to the road, and her friend is whispering to her the whole time. I figure she must be the poor girl who just got turned out for amusement.

When Larry shows walks out into the clearing in all red the party's jumpin. 187 Proof is blasting from a boombox nearby. I'm on my second beer. The two guys Larry is with are also dressed in red. One is a white kid, the other is some mexican kid. Travis is sitting against a sump, I.m standing next to him. He's still taller than me even though he leaning back. My girl give's Travis a smoke then lights one for us to share. The crowd of people in front of us suddenly breaks apart, and out running comes some white kid running looking scared to death. Larry and his mexican hommie run up from behind, Larry grabs the back of his shirt and pulls him back in the direction his fist is coming. The punch lands on kid's face, Larry's hommie pushes kid to the ground. The kid's on the ground, and Larry and homeboy are on him again. Kid pulls a schank out to cut Larry and his homeboy loose. Some people are watching this happen, while others don't realize it's going on. Travis jumps up to run over and kick the kid in the head, knocking him out cold. Larry and homeboy cleaned the kids clock, and Travis's kick probably gave kid a concussion. Larry picked up the knife and put it in his pocket. The kid came to and said something to homeboy. Homeboy picks up a big smooth stone, raising it above his head to strike the kid on the ground. I yell, "Don't! You're gonna fuckin kill him." I say to him because no one came here to see that. My girl is watching with her mouth open. Homeboy and Larry look at me. Larry doesn't say anything so homeboy throws the rock into the dark brush. "Dude, wut's up?" Larry asks.
"Nuthin. You?"
"Same ol'. You seen NIGGA T. around lately?"
"Naw. You?"
"Yeah, he 'bout to get locked up though."
"No shit. Tell him I say wut's up, next time you see him."
"Hey Travis thanks Dawg." Says Larry.
"Hey fsho!" Says Travis laughing.
That's when my girl whispers, "Let's get the fuck outta here!"
"Later fellas," I say, and its back up the dark path to the car. We pass a couple Sheriffs on the way up. The tell us to get lost, ASAP.

Back at her house her mom's gone. We tiptoe to bed, where I try to give her a kiss that says everything I can't. It works, so we fuck for the rest of the night. In the morning I wake up disappointed because I only get her off once the whole night. All she can do is tell me how much she loves me.

View

2008-05-07T02:01:00.000-07:00

Wrote most of this a few days ago, then sat on it. This story appeared in my head in a flash, so I had to write it.

The weed was crumbled. I gutted the cigar.
Dude, I am so fuckin baked, said Dave, in the passenger seat.
I am so blunted, replied my brother, from the back seat.
Fuckin A, was my retort as I drove down the back side of sonoma Mountain. The sun was setting fast, to the west I could see a blend of oranges and pinks against the horizon. We were driving back from Kenwood, where we had just scored and ounce of the finest Cali. green.
Skillfully, the blunt went around, and around again. Dave put it out as I came to a stop at the stoplight on the main road.
Fuck! There's a fuckin COP behind me! I say, looking in my rear view.
Chill, Dude, Dave tells me, He might not pull you over. But he was on my ass, running my plates.
My registration is expired though, I tell Dave. Ted hide the fuckin weed, and light a smoke, I tell my brother.
I already did, he tells me and lights a smoke, as he rolls the window down.
The light turn green, The COP throws up a red light on top of his car as we turn onto the main road.
Sophia is at home with the new baby. I pick up my cell and call her. Sophia answers quickly, which is surprising. Baby, I say into the phone, I'm fuckin gettin pulled over right now.
What...where are you? She asks.
I'll call you later, and I hang up.
Dave ditches the blunt roach out the window as I signal, then pull into a gravel lot, where they have a pumpkin patch every Autumn. The COP turns on his spotlight then throws the bright beam on my car. I hear the gravel crunch underneath his boots as he walks up to my car.
Evenin', he says. The first stars are in the sky. he has his flashlight on, and is shining it all around the inside of my car. He sees a Mcdonalds bag, a couple empty Starbucks cups, and a pile of baby clothes that conceals the ounce of weed. My brother's foot was on it.
Well, I say, even though I am nervous thinking I am going to spend the nite in jail. The last thing I needed was to catch a case, what a fuckin headache that would be. Fuck doing jail time.
Do you know why I pulled you over? He asks with the flashlight pointed in my face.
Probably cause of my regristration.
Yep.
I mailed the check off, last week.
OK, may I see your license and insurance, please?
I hand him my license, and an expired insurance policy. He gives it a good lookover, and turns the radio on his shoulder down.
He points his flashlight back in my face. Do you have any marijuana in the vehicle? He asks, I can smell it.
Well, we just smoked a blunt, I tell him omitting the fact that there's ounce in the back seat, which is definitely the source of the smell.
When? He asks.
Just now.
Where's the roach? And he shines the flashlight around again.
Oh, I say, I told this guy to throw it out the window when you threw your light on. I motion to Dave sitting next to me, with my thumb.
And there is no other dope in the car?
No sir.
Get out of the car, he says, so I open the door and step out, the blunt guts that were on my lap fall to the ground, the Cop notices. I figure if he wasn't going to search my car, he was now. Step back, he says walking backwards, motioning me with his finger. He tells me stop, then walks back to his patrol car. I hear him talking into the radio on his shoulder, and looking down at my license and expired insurance. I stand waiting praying I don't get busted right now, I just wanted to go home.
He walks back over to me. He has close cut black hair, like me. He was young, early thirties, not a bad guy at all.
He takes a pen out of his breast pocket. Look at the tip of the pen, he says pointing to the tip with his finger.
I nod my head.
He moves it back and forth, I follow intently with my eyes. His test made me feel more high than I actually was. Then he makes me stand on one foot looking up at the sky, and touch the tip of my nose.
OK, stop.
I put my leg down and lower my eyes to his.
You're this close, he says. He hold up two fingers showing me the narrowness by which I had just avoided a major shit storm.
Thanks, I say, relieved, because I know the law.
He stands there, puts his thumbs in his belt buckle, the beaming bright light of the spotlight shone over his back, and says:
You gotta quit smoking weed.
You know I was thinking the same thing, I say, which I had.
Yeah that shit kills your ambition you know. So I'm letting you off with a warning. Don't let me catch you 'round here again smoking weed.
Understood, was my only reply.
I get in the car, Dave and my brother are looking at me with surprised expressions.
He's letting me go, I tell them.
Dave laughs. Then says with relief: You lucky motherfucka.
My brother just sighs, and hands me a cigarette. I grasp it and my hand is shaking.
The COP writes me a ticket for expired tags. He hands me the ticket through my window, I thank him again.
I leave the dusty gravel lot. Spared, for now.

Friday April 26th

2008-04-25T00:45:00.000-07:00

It seems things aren't as bad I think, Heaven is still on my side. I got a call from my aunt the other day, said I got a package in the mail from Aunt Bev. She is one of my other guardian angels, her prayers been keeping me safe my whole life. Every birthday I get a heartfelt card from her god bless her. My aunt says that the LORD speaks through Aunt Bev, so that it's a message from God and I am by no means a religious man still, I can't disagree with her. I cried, but in my own way.

Sophia says weed is causing me to feel apathetic. I google weed and apathy. Sure enough, I read research finds that smoking dope causes apathy. Then I found that studies are inconclusive as to whether smoking dope causes apathy, or if apathy causes one to smoke dope. Huha. I'll smoke to that.

I can't wait for the semester to be over. I took a history test the other day. I haven't read the textbook in a month or so, nor did I study for the test yet I still managed to pull an 80% out of my ass. I gave a powerpoint presentation about Planned Parenthood, in my child dev class. I bombed my presentation, something about being up in front of a room full of women, all eyez on me. Yeah, I fuckin chocked. I touched a bit on Margaret Sanger and eugenics, when I was done a woman in my class, who is probably old enough to be my mother, asked me what eugenics was. It was the whole idea behind the Holocaust, I said. And explained a little more, and the teacher helped too. So fuck a good grade, I helped spark a mind. I'm sure that woman wasn't the only one in class who didn't know about eugenics.

Thought of a dope ass story to write, then forgot it moments later. I should start writing things down.

"Renard"

Hush Little Baby

2008-04-07T12:09:00.000-07:00

She would write a letter to him every week, which is exactly what she had sat down to do when there was a knock at the door. She got up and brushed the wrinkles from her dress, and pulled her fading golden hair behind her ear. She opened the door and found a short elderly man. In his hand he was holding an envelope, a message. Is it bad news? She asked as he handed her the letter. His face was expressionless, he said nothing. Then he was gone.

She opened the letter and read it. She stood there puzzled, with an expression to match. Then she began to scream, that's all she could do. The neighbor ran over from next door, and found her still in the doorway on the floor, clutching the letter tightly in one hand, in her other rested her forehead, her head ringing from the pain. My baby! my baby! she sobbed. And for the first time in her life she was at a loss for words. She could never describe the feeling that came over her at that moment, nothing could have ever prepared her for it. She got up. She went to the table where she had been sitting writing her letter, before the man came. She sat back down and finished writing.

She always prayed to the LORD to keep him out of harms way, and to bring him home safe. And if he never did make it home, she prayed for the strength to carry on. It didn't matter. He was gone.

Been going with the cloud thing lately. I could use some art supplies.

Darkest Before Dawn

2008-04-06T03:49:00.001-07:00

This is a vignette that took me a relatively short amount of time to write. Would have loved to accompany with an illustration, but I am just too busy at the moment.

Get up. It's 2 a.m., drive to the shop with the squeky roll up door. Mornin' Al. Mornin', he says back. He's old, round, wise. He played college ball with Wilt Chamberlain he told me. He slept with over ten thousand women, Al told me one morning at dawn, putting along in his truck. I think I heard that about him too, wonder if it's true? I said.

Al says good morning, and pats me on the back. You missed a couple throws yesterday, he complains. Sorry Al, I'll throw 'em today, I promise, I told him. I know you will, he said back. I load my car. I spend and hour. I leave. The stars twinkle where the clouds break. Under the blanket of darkness I travel. Clutching a cigarette, music loud. Fold, bag, back seat. Trying to keep my deadline, sunrise.

A little gray kitten. The first time I saw it I slowed down. The second and third time I pulled over and got out of the car. Come here kitty, I would say on my knees with my hand out, tapping the cool, black road. It was a tiny little kitten. It was grey like a stone, its front paws had white boots. It just sat there on the other side of the road, staring at me from underneath the blackberry bush that mangled its way down the hill and all the way to the edge of the road. I wanted to take the kitten home and feed it. I was sure it would make a fine pet. Come here kitty, I say again, bent down on my knees, before it disappears into the dark brush.

The road is windy, it is dark. Clutching a cigarette, music loud. Fold, bag, backseat.

THUD!!

When I get out of the car the air is heavy and wet. The dew has been settling on the black road all night. I smell it. I squint into the darkness and take a few steps. On the side of the road I see it. Small and broken. Its white boots splashed with blood. Stupid fuckin cat! I say, as I stand over the kittens lifeless body, blood is beginning to pour from its open mouth. I know it cannot hear me. Should've come with me when you had the chance, I would have given you warm bowls of milk, I say to the dead cat again. I squash out the cigarette next to where the cat lay. I leave the cat on the side of the road. I get into the car and leave. I have a deadline to keep. Sunrise.

Thursday March 27th

2008-03-27T02:22:00.000-07:00

Lately I have been running into people I know, unexpectedly. I was at the bank the other day and I saw Mr. Eaton, my old Jr High counselor. I was always getting in trouble at school, Mr Eaton's office was always where I would end up. He always told me he saw my potential and that I could do great things if I wanted, everyone else thought I was a fuck up. He always went to bat for me and was the reason I lasted so long at school. He really wanted to see me succeed, because he knew what I was up against, and he knew I could. I always thought that Mr. Eaton was like my guardian angel. Later in life I would see him around town in his big powder blue car from the 70's, or at the supermarket. It was like he was still there, looking out for me. But for some reason anytime I would see him I would never say hi, even though that is all I wanted to do, and I usually had a perfectly good chance to.

So there he was at the bank, he walked right passed me. I recognized him immediately. He was old back when I knew him, bald hairy nose, hairy ears, thin. I could see that he had aged well, he did not really look that much older, maybe just a little thinner, and he seemed just as lively as ever. He was wearing a suit that looked like it was made the same year his car was produced, like he got it at the second hand store. So there I was, the last time I had seen Mr. Eaton was a few years ago, probably before Keaton was born. When he walked passed me I wanted to say hi, and to give him a hug, and to tell him how much he has meant to me all these years. I wanted to ask if he was still trying to pull kids out of the gutter. The idea that he was my guardian angel was reinforced, and suddenly thats how I recognized him there in front of me, because LORD knows I could use him now. But I did not say shit. I looked him in the eye as he walked by, but that is about it. I watched him walk across the parking lot toward See's Candies before he disappeared.

After that I was driving home, and I heard a car honk behind me. I looked in my rearview ad saw my brother in a truck behind me. We waved at each other, and I went to turn into a parking lot, but he got on the highway. Later that day in town I saw Lyle driving with Tony, Lyle looked surprised to see me waving at him at the intersection, but I just kept driving. That is unusual because I thought those fucks never left Kenwood.

I have had this happen before. I should probably remember to check the obituaries daily. I would hate to miss Mr. Eaton's funeral.

Special Dark

2008-03-25T00:27:00.000-07:00

This took entirely too long for what it is. I completed it because I did not really want to leave it unfinished. Why? I am not too sure, I am really not proud of it, but at any rate.....

Usually when he went to a show he would have his back up against a wall. He would hardly allow himself to move with the beat. Tonight he was with Chase, things would be different. That's what chase said anyway. Before the show started they drank some whiskey straight. After they finished the fifth they smoked a joint and shared a cigarette. Let's roll Dude, chase said with the cigarette in his mouth as he flipped up the collar on his flannel shirt.

Chase didn't say who was playing at the show. He simply requested Dude's company for the evening. Upon arriving inside he found it very dark and alive with excitement. The buzz of voices filled the warm stuffy air. Everyone was dressed the same. Mowhaks, leather, and sleveless tees. There was also a lot of metal studded bracelets and collars, and steele toe boots. Dude was wearing his usual ; vans, cut off dickie shorts, and a fIREHOSE tshirt. Dude didn't know who was playing tonight, but he could tell by the crowd that it was probably some metal band.

By the time the band took the stage the place was hot, people were pumped. During the intermission Dude and Chase smoked another joint. Back inside the show was starting up again. Come on Dude, Chase said, and led him down to the mosh pit. Chase jumped right in to brave the sea of people who were dancing around, throwing themselves into one another, and hitting each other as the music filled the room with the energy to make it possible. Dude had never done anything like that before, but he was drunk, and feeling ambitious, so he jumped right in. Chase was rolling around in the circle of people, and sweat was flying everywhere. Dude kept his elbows in front of him, and his head down. He did not really have to move much as he was swept along with the swirling crowd around him. He got slammed a few times, but he was really enjoying himself. Some mothefucker with a green mowhawk and kept slamming Dude pretty hard with their broad shoulders, and thick elbows. One elbow caught him in the chin, so next time they came around Dude slammed them in the face with his fist and knocked them on the ground where they got trampled before they were helped to their feet. After that they were gone, and so was Chase.

After the show Dude found Chase in the lobby. The lights were bright, and everyone was leaving. I gotta take a piss, Dude told Chase in his ear. Chase nodded and motioned with his two fingers up to his lips like he was holding a cigarette then pointed at the front door.

Dude was waiting in line for the bathroom, when he heard a voice say: Yeah, that's him. And then in a flash Dude was surrounded by a bunch of guys wearing crazy leather clothes, and make up. They all had mowhawks too, they all looked the same. The first punch was a chin check, the second one the guy with the pink mowhawk was clenching a lighter in his fist. It was a fierce blow that landed square on Dude's jaw. Dude hit the ground, and tried to bounce back up, but these mother fuckers were blood thirsty so that only made it worse. Other people in line moved out of the way and looked on and some began to cheer as Dude got the shit kicked out of him. If they were totting shanks Dude would have been swiss cheese. When the guys finally stepped back Dude was laying on the floor in a pool of blood and vomit. He recognized the green mowhawk step forward. That's right bitch, She brayed, and she lifted her shirt to reveal a tittie, firm, supple, feminine. She cupped it in her hand, Never hit a woman! And she spit on Dude's bloody, vomit covered face. I didn't know, Dude murmurred from down there on the floor, but they were already gone. A few people helped Dude up, he stumbled outside and found Chase. Chase just laughed. Man what happened? he asked.

Tuesday March 18th

2008-03-17T23:14:00.001-07:00

So I was in Starbucks ordering my coffee. In front of me was a guy I recognized as an employee, but he was in his street clothes wearing a back pac, and ordering a drink just like me. I ordered my drink, and while I was waiting the two female baristas were having a cheery conversation with the guy, I think his name was Ryan. So Ryan had his first date, said one barista to the other. No way! said the other one, Where did you go? she asked Ryan. Oh we went to a comic book shop, he said giggly. Immediately my geek radar went off. A date at a comic book shop!? What a piimp. Straight game! I bet he got laid, was all I was thinking. I wanted to tap him on the shoulder and let him know that I admired his choice for date entertainment, and that I never could have thought of that in a million years. I take Sophia to the comic book shop, she rolls her eyes. But had I taken her there in the beginning she would have thought I was so cool. Awww, that's so cute! said one of the girls. I know, said the other. She handed Ryan his drink fom across the counter. So, where'd ya' meet him? asked one girl. Oh, at the Blackcat, said Ryan as he sipped his frosty blended coffee drink, then stirred it a few times with his straw. Oh. I had no idea, I thought before laughing to myself. I got my drink, then was on my way, feeling fortunate to have had the pleasant experience of being humored so unexpectedly.

Friday March 7th

2008-03-07T10:48:00.000-08:00

I read in the paper today that Passalacqua cleared the cops who shot 16 year old Jeremiah Chase seven times at his home in Sebastopol; in front of his mother, father, and little brother. I can understand all too well why the punk-assed D.A. would let the cops off, it is called CORRUPTION. I guess the D.A. would rather prosecute all the dope growers, and fuck with everybody over in Roseland.

It is plain to see that to make peace you must use force. Violent force? Most of the time, no. Espescially in this case. It was two cops against a 16 year old boy who weighed less than 130 pounds. Fuckin pussy cops are trigger happy. How can they justify their actions? Killing a kid? Shit they are missing their fuckin mark. And what the fuck kind of police training are they getting if they cannot even subdue a 16 year old? What a fucking waste of our tax dollars. The cops said they got tired from fighting with the kid, so they drew their guns and shot him. A 16 year old kid is not life threatening. Maybe we should train the cops to stay in shape so they can handle the task of subduing a kid without getting all winded and out of breath. Shit, and I thought I was fuckin lazy.

Passalacqua said that you could not convince a jury of any wrong doing, on the cops part, for the killing, so that is why he won't prosecute. Straight from the horses fucking mouth. Show me a fucking jury that would not convict those fucking prick, child killing cops. But on the other hand, he is probably right, our priorities are so fucked up.

Anyway I am off to Yosemite for the weekend.

Three things I do no like:

1) The 2008 presidential elections. Time for the slaves to choose a new master (that is if BushCo steps down). Come on seriously, thirty two years of Bush/Clinton? We ain't free. FEMA camps, here we come!

2) Capitalism. If you want peace, stopping the economy is a good start.

3) The fact that I am going to miss the 12am release of Super Smash Bros. Brawl. I have already been waiting a couple years, I guess a few extra days won't hurt.

Demons Dress Well

2008-03-03T02:23:00.001-08:00

Took me a sec. to get this one done. I thought about this story the last time I drove to Ventura solo, about a month ago. Shit, and we thought we had it bad as kids.

Down town Santa Barbara was quiet when I stepped off the bus with my duffle bag containing every earthly possession I had. The mist hung thick and low to the streets, illuminating the street lights with a static orange glow that was eerily audible, that was the only contrast to the silent silence. It was early and the sun had not even begun to rise. I wanted to take some weed down to the beach to watch it rise, but no such luck since I was dry. I walked over to the AM PM gas station/mini mart to try and get a pack of smokes, I was only fourteen, so I figured if someone was going to sell me cigarettes it would be at four a.m. But I was wrong. On my way out of the store I noticed a brand new Saab drive by, the bright lights from the gas station reflected of its shinny new dark blue paint job. I walked back to the bus station, and sat against the wall and pulled out my copy of Watership Down to read it under the light. I had change to call Sean at home to come get me, but it was still so early I did not want to wake him. My bus was early anyway. Before I could open my book to start reading the dark blue Saab pulled into the bus station and pulled up next to where I sat on the ground.

Inside was a man, maybe...late thirties. He rolled down his dark tinted window. He had the devil's curly hair, jet black; must have been dyed. He had a flat face and with salt and pepper stubble, and glasses rested on the bridge of his short stubby nose. His mouth was smiling when he looked at me. Hey you need a ride? he asked me. I thought about it, I had an unsettling feeling in my gut, but I was not scared. Sure, I said, and stood up off the cold pavement. I heard a clicking noise and then he opened his door and got out. Here he said, and picked up my bag and put it in the trunk. I could tell he was a demon; I could tell because he was dressed well, expensive loafers, polo shorts, tailored shirt; his jewelry shone crisp in the nite. I saw you at the gas station, thought I would try and help you out, he said real friendly like. Yeah I was trying to buy some smokes, but the guy turned me down, I replied. I could tell right then, that this guy was a creep, why else would he follow follow me and offer his help so early in the morning?

We got into the car. I could feel his vibe; dark, erotic, predatory, which alluded to his intentions. Oh, he said, as we drove passed the gas station. I will get you some smokes, he said pulling into a dark parking lot. He parked in front of a store that had a neon sign that read 24 HOUR in bright red. Looking inside through the big glass windows I could see all different kind of donuts under a row of glass cases. What kind of cigarettes you want? he asked politely. Uh, Camel Lights, please, I replied and reached into my pocket for some cash. No, No! I got it, you want anything else? he asked and jumped out of the car, the cold sea air blew in to keep me alert. I shook my head. He came back with two packs for me. May I? I asked opening the pack. Of course, just crack the window won't you? But he did it for me.

He opened the engine up when he got on the 101 South. I smoked my cigarette and tossed it out the window. Thanks for these by the way. I said. Sure, he said, You're nice. What were you doing out there all alone at the bus stop? he asked me. So I explained all the shit I had been going through, but as briefly as possible. There was no way I was going to trust this guy. After I told him he became silent for a moment. So would you ever have sex for money, man? he asked. I could see that question coming from a mile away. At that moment I realized how dark it was, I looked out my window out passed the ocean to the horizon; for the rising sun. But all I could see was dark fog and thick grey clouds above the restless sea. I don't know, I guess I never thought about it before, maybe if it was a hot chick or something. I said with a chuckle. This guy is a sicko. I imagined him as if he were a dog; he could smell my fear. He seemed surprised that he could not sense any.

He put his hand on my thigh. Well would you ever let someone give you a blowjob for like a hundred bucks? he asked sincerely. Yo dude! get your fucking hand off me man! I told him, and brushed his hand away. Besides man, I'm fuckin straight man. I'm not gay, or bi. I said, and lit another smoke; if this fucker was gonna try something like that again I was gonna put the smoke out on his face, then give him hell. Sorry, man, he said. I just thought I would ask, he said, and put his hand back on the steering wheel.

Pull over man, I gotta piss hella bad, I said. He exited off the freeway and pulled over on the shoulder of the road on the shore of the beach.I got out off the car and took a fat piss, and reflected on what had just happened to me. I turned to go back to the car, and I could see the fuckin petter-ass sniffing my seat, he took a deep wiff, then looked up at me with a smile on his face; like it was getting him off. He did not seem to care that I had seen him. I lit another cigarette.

Back on the freeway started asking me more personal questions. I tried to be as secretive as I could, and kept smoking cigarettes. By the time we got into Ventura the sun was beginning to rise. I told the demon to let me off at the park around the corner from my Aunt's house, so he could not see where I "live". I could hear the trunk pop just as I opened the door to get out. Look, he said, sorry about what I did again. Every week I take a group of kids, about your age out for pizza, or to the movies, or something. This week we are going to Golf 'n' Stuff, you want to go? I'm cool, man, I said. I got my bag and got the fuck away from the petter-assed demon. Fuck him. I felt bad for all the little kids who go out with that fool. I knew that mother fucker was doing bad things to them, and hurting them too. At least I would have a good story for Katie when I got "home".

In retrospect I should have killed the dude, or at least hurt him real bad. But not for myself, I was a big boy, I could take it; but for the other kids he was taking advantage of. I regret not doing anything about it.

Damn I need some cut-up

2008-01-30T21:07:00.000-08:00

Note: This was supposed to be a vignette, but I got a little carried away.

James was a good friend, we complimented each other nicely. I was quiet and insecure; he was arrogantly wreckless. He showed me how to stick up for myself; I was quick to rationalize with him when he wanted to pounce on someone, or pull a purce snatch. We had each others backs in different ways. He got kicked out of his house, I was on the streets; so with that in common we quickly bonded and began to roam like a pair of stray dogs, kickin up dust everywhere.

I had no where to hide, the block was hot. I had enemies, plus the cops had me on the list. I was being spared, and it was a matter of time before all the bullshit caught up with me. Fuck it James lets bail outta here, I said one summer afternoon, while we were sitting in the creek nursing a bottle of Tequila. Where do you want to go? He asked, Is it because of Rob? I was ashamed to admit it. Dude you're such a fuckin pussy! Just fight that fool. Don't you hate him? What reason do I have to hate him? I asked. Umm he fucked your girl, and said he was going to shoot your ass. He laughed and put the bottle to his lips, swigged. You made me get involved for you, and look what happened to that piece of shit! James passed the bottle. True, James did get involved for me, and He fought Rob in the creek while I waited at the store, across the street. Rob came back with scratches on his neck and a black eye. He had a new found respect for James, while his disgust for me enraged; disgust at my weakness. It was true; I was weak, my insecurities rendered me incapable of defending myslef. Instictively I had become numb to most emotion as a defense mechanism, I felt nothing but fear; the more I ran, the more monstrous it became, I could never turn and face it, never. Straight liquor, and marijuana offered my only temporary escape. I saw the way James held his head high after he tangled with Rob, and wanted to be able to do the same.

A few days later I got ahold of Rob and told him I was not scared of him anymore. He laughed in the face of my mustered courage, Meet me at Doyle in fifteen, he said, I'll show you what's up.

Sitting at the park waiting for rob, I smoked a cigarette with James. We saw him walking up with his cousin Jim. Both were swaggering and walking like they hada whole stable of hoes or something, trying to be pimps. I was not fooled, I thought maybe he might try to schank me or something, but it was too late now.

What's up Ro-- I began to say as he walked up and punched me square in the mouth. I hi the ground, Rob began to stomp and kick me. I felt a sharp pain in my neck, my eyes were closed, a bright yellow flash lit up inside my head; I think it was the spark my teeth made when they knocked against each other because I had a burnt taste in my mouth. I yelled in pain, OKAY!

That' right bitch, said Rob, he let me get up off the ground. Now take your ass back to Kenwood, or whever the fuck you're from. If I see you in Rosa bitch, I'm gonna kill your ass. He shoved me back to the ground hard, Understand me mothafucka? Yeah, I said nursing my swollen cheek. Now get the fuck outta here before I change my mind! Said Rob between his teeth.

The problem was I could not go back to Kenwood either, K.P.8332G, which I was responsible for starting, jumped me and my brother in Mike and Jeff's back yard; I was sitting with my brother and Mike when the rest of my folks came out and had a field day on me and my brother. What the fuck are you doing? Stop! Was what Mike said as he tried to break it up. I took off and left my brother there; I will never forgive myself for that. Mike was tru blu, but now he is gone just like 'Pac; so I am left with the rest of these assholes. I am not mad though; even Judas the betrayer was true in the end.
I could not go back to Kenwood and take all their shit. My old friends would find me and talk shit and try to fight me, I would always back down, and those pussies were scared to make the first move, I hated to be insulted by the fucks who betrayed me. Now, I was left with next to nothing, it all fit into the official KP8332G military green back pac I wore on my back, inside was some clothes, and a knife that I stole from my firend Sean, and my Walk Man and my tapes; my saving grace.

We could take off down south, I said to James on the bus. To where? He asked. I dunno, Mexico; we could stop in Ventura and holler at my cousin too for a minute, I said half jokingly. You want to go to Mexico Fool? How? Sneak over the border? asked James. Fuck it, I said. Yeah, fuck it, lets do it! Said James. So it was. How we gonna get there? James asked out of curiosity. I don't know, you down to hitch hike? Sure, he said. We got off the bus at Safeway in Rincon Valley, our plan was to hitch hike to Kenwood, then down south from there the following day. Once inside Safeway we beelined to the beer, where James grabbed a 40 oz. of Mickeys and slid it in his pocket. We drank it in the dry creek bed shaded by big Oaks behind the store, while we smoked Camel Wides. I told him what happened when Rob kicked me in the neck, or whever. I'm proud of you, even though you got your ass beat, James said; he hated to see his friend act like such a softee. Hey thanks, surprisingly I feel better about the whole thing, I replied. You always do, said James and he threw the empty bottle against a jagged rock; it popped and shattered into a million pieces, Let's go get another one, he said. We finished the second 40 at twilight, the tip off my cigarette glowed a flashing red in dark, we got up to leave as the town lit up.

Highway twelve had just opened to four lanes, divided in half by a big island where new trees and shrubs were planted. It was dark when we got there; James quicky crossed to the east bound side, I saw his black raiders jersey fade into the night as he dashed all four lanes at once in a drunken stumble. We stood there on the east bound side with our thumbs out in typical hitch hiker fashion, no one picked us up. What should we do now? asked James as we stood in the dark under the clear starry nite. I don't know dude, should we go back to town? I want to see Ashley. Let's do it, yelled James over the roar of a passing car. Yeah, it's late, how about we leave tomorrow? I asked. So after a half-hour or so we left.

We had to cross back to the westbound side, so we could use the payphone to call my girl. When the lanes were clear James booked across the lanes. We were standing just under the crest of a hill, so it was hard to see a car coming over the hill. James made it across by blind luck. Without even thinking about it I booked across the four lanes. The first two I cleared fine. I hit the island like a like a shot, and stumbled and fell before I caught myself. I did not even look to see if a car was coming, I remember James standing there on the side of the road watching me. It was too late, I looked to my right and saw some headlights coming over the hill, they were on me too. For some reason I remember it was a dark blue Saturn sedan; the tires squeeked for a split second I looked down and saw the fender right next to my leg, instictively I ran the same way as the car, instead of right in front of it. The car ran into me.

The next thing I remember I was laying on my back in the middle of the highway; the official KP8332G back-pac helped to break my fall, and probably saved me from grave injuries...well that and the fact that I was . I got up shaken, everything was really dark, and my vision was narrow. The woman in the blue Saturn had pulled over, she leapt out of her car, balling tears hysterically, Oh my god! Oh my god! she sobbed, Are you okay? Oh my god! Yeah I guess I'm fine, I managed to say. James seemed a little shocked by what he had just seen; once he knew I was ok he began to laugh, damn fool, what the fuck was that? Surprisingly I was ok. The woman was still in a panic, Oh my god! Can I get you anything? do you need a ambulance? I am soo sorry! she wailed. But there was only one thing on my mind, Got any money? I asked casually. James laghed when I said that. Seriously lady though I'm fine don't worry about it really. Me and James took off and started walking down the hill. My right leg was swollen though so I hobbled the best I could, down the hill towards the store. Walking towards up the hill came an older couple, the man was bald, his wife was ugly like him. You fuckin imbucile! shouted the man as me and James approached, What the fuck is wrong with you? he barked. I guess he must have been driving by and saw me get hit; now he was all upset with me. Whatever man! I said to him. James was not having it though; What? fuck you! My friend just got hit by a car and you want to call him names? F U C K Y O U! shouted James, and got all up in his face,his clenched fists about to pummel this poor old man. Hey fuck it James, I said, Let's just go. And fuck you too buddy! I said to the old man and his wife. They stood there with their mouths open in disbelief and shock as we walked away; the woman in her car was all hysterical again after hearing our exchange with the old couple. I left the scene; no ambulance, no police, no firetrucks ever showed up, and James is doing hard time now and we have not spoke in years, so I often wonder if this really happened to me or if I imagined it. Even the scar I had on my leg from that nite is gone. I remember limpin away with James thinking: Damn! now I need some cut-up.

Under Water

2008-01-11T14:58:00.000-08:00

Paula was a big Indian lady; a gentle giant. She owned a house on Beaver street, right next to downtown. It was an old house with chipped white paint, and a big shrub growing in the front that blocked her view from the street like a big green wall. In the back there was a huge Grapefruit tree, it was tall with thick branches, and big healthy green leaves, the trunk was thick, and grey. There were so many grapefruits growing on it, that the birds could not even eat them all. They would fall off the tree and start to rot. It would smell like the valley back home, when all the vineyards were making wine. Once the fruit began to rot, and the mold began to eat it, Paula would have to pick them all up.

Paula would sit in her house all day, smoking Marlboro 100's in her big green chair, in front of her big-screen television; and watch soap operas, game shows, and the Food Network. Twice a week she would play bingo down at the Vets Hall. She always said that was one of her favorite things to do; and probably one of the only times she ever left her chair. Hanging all over the walls of the house she had pictures of wolves howling at the moon, and dream catchers in a variety of sizes.

Paula had a daughter named Athena who lived with her. Athena shared her room with her boyfriend Joe. Joe and Athena told me that Athena was the Greek Goddess of beauty. I found that strange, as Athena was not attractive in the least, so I figured her beauty was to be found within. And it was, she was a very nice person. Then I learned that Athena was not the Goddess of beauty, but of wisdom; which made sense because the Athena I knew had way more brains than beauty.

There was a basement under Paula's house. There were no lights so it was like the darkest night with no stars. The ceiling was so low that when you were standing you had to stoop a little bit so your head would not touch the ceiling. The basement ran the whole length of the house so it was big. Paula decided to break it up into two separate rooms, and rent them out. She put up some old pieces of plywood to separate the rooms. In other pieces of wood she cut a square piece out of the center and screwed it back on with hinges, so it became the front door to your room. The part of the basement, which was not divided into a room had a refrigerator, and a microwave for the tenants down stairs under her house. But if you had to use the bathroom, you had to walk upstairs. The bathroom was close to where Paula always sat in her big green chair, and sometimes you would run into her; which was not always a good thing...like say, if you were behind on rent.

One room in the basement was occupied by a single mother, and her two small children. I rented the other one. My mother met a man online and married him and moved to the east bay. I made the choice to stay (I do not know why), and moved in with Grandma. Grandma got mad and kicked me out because I used her change to buy cigarettes. I worked with Joe in a kitchen. He was a dishwasher. Scott, his roommate and fellow dishwasher, was moving back to Brooklyn. Joe talked to Paula and she said I could rent Scott's old room in the basement for $200 a month.

The room was painted deep sea blue, I felt like I was living under water, the room had a single window at ground level that looked into the gravel driveway. It was more like a compartment than a room, and I sometimes get claustrophobic. I did have a nice view of one of my roommate's car's rear tire, though.

The underwater room was furnished when I moved in. It had a bed, and a dresser with an old television set and a lamp on it. There were even book cases for all of my books. I had a N64, I walked up to Hi-Tech Game Center and bought Jet Force Gemini, and since there was no cable in my room, that is all I used the television for.

Even though I had been on my own for years, this was the first time I was on my own with responsibilities; like paying rent, working, and just basically feeding myself. I was sixteen. I really tried hard to just make the best of it.

Paula knew some guy named Zack, he was a scurvy, greasy old tweeker dude, with rotting teeth. And he was going bald. I got to know him and he seemed nice enough. One time he told me he could get me some weed cheap, so I ended up walking all over Santa Rosa with him at night until we got some. He also used to come over late at night and start cursing at Paula; calling her a cunt, and a bitch...and just being a real jack-ass. I really lost a lot of respect for the guy after that, showing so much disrespect to the woman who let him crash at her house for free. Every time he did it Paula would always apologize for him and make excuses because he was a drunk. Yeah, I would say, I know how it is. I would see Zack after that around town, or on the bus; but I never said hi, or talked to him anymore.

I was on my way to pay rent. The money I had was from the last paycheck I got from the kitchen. They fired me. It could have been for a number of reasons; I was getting stoned during brakes, and stealing food from the kitchen and bringing it home, and I was just a slacker in general. I cashed the check and was walking home from down town. I ran into some guy I knew, I offered to smoke him out, since I ha some weed. I hopped into his ride and we were off. The money I used to buy the weed was my food money. But I did not give a fuck; I had money to pay rent, weed, and it was a clear bright spring day, I was glad just to be alive for the moment. I reached into my sock, that is where I kept the green- my money and my weed. We smoked a bowl or two and he dropped me off at home. I went down to my room. When I reached in my sock to go pay rent my money was gone; it fell out of my sock when I went to retrieve the weed in dude's car. I never saw him again in my life. I had to explain to Paula how I lost her money. She was unhappy, but graciously gave me another month to pay; at which point I would owe her $400. She would use all my shit in the room as collateral.

My friend was on the run. I let him and his girl live underwater with me so he could hide out. He stashed the gun he used in a robbery in my dresser. We ate canned beef stew that I got from the food bank, and smoked cigarettes. He got caught again. He was the first minor to be tried as an adult in the state. It was front page news. I took the gun he stashed and sold it for some weed that I got from my friend Adolf; he was a Marine. Adolf's father had passed away, he was buried in the same cemetery that my friend was; out in Sonoma off Broadway.

I moved out shortly after that, back up to the surface.

I still drive by sometimes, and wonder if Paula still lives there, and if she would even remember me. She was so surprised when I came back with her money so I could get my shit.
Most people usually just take off, she laughed as I put the money in her hand.

Friday January 11th

2008-01-11T10:01:00.000-08:00

Woke up this morning and actually it was not too difficult like it is every other morning. I had to go up to 7-11 because Keaton was all out of milk for his chocolate syrup. He tried to make me apologize to him for drinking all his milk, so I had to remnd him that I hardly drink milk; his request for an apology was quickly denied. Keaton will be four in March. I can remember things from when I was four, so he should be getting some of his first memories soon. I hope I can make them treasured memories, just like mine, before shit hit the fan.

The day was pretty uneventful, me and the fam. went to Target to get q-tips, and some composition books for note taking at school. We put a Safeway.com order in because there is no food in the house. When we got home we started our nightly routine with the kids: dinner, bath, pajamas, Wii, brush teeth, read stories, bed. Sophia worked on the computer while I tried to straighten out the office, school starts Monday so I am trying to get organized.

I heard my cell phone ring as I was going to the porch to burn a bowl, and a cigarette. After they left a message, I had two unheard messages on my phone. I checked them on the porch while I was smoking. The first one was from my father. He left the message around three saying he was getting on the bus to come up, and he will call when he is in front of Safeway. The second message was also from my father. Dude, he said, are you gonna come get me or what?! But he said all like a drunk-words all slurred and sloppy. I did not want to bring my father back here all drunk when I was trying to have a quiet nite at home with Sophia. But at the same time I could not just leave him there. I try to trust my gut. My mind sometimes gets in the way when it starts to try and reason with my what I am feeling, to see if there is any way around it. Sometimes if there is, I go for it, but it is a lot easier when they are in agreement. In this case I could not. My gut was telling me to go get him, and drive him home. My mind was trying to rationalize leaving him there. There was a huge sinking felling I felt. I thought about leaving him there, and not even telling Sophia about it. I told her what happened, and that I had to get him. I left around eight forty-five.

I got to Safeway a few minutes later, and found my father sitting up on a bench passed out. I could see that his pants were because he had pissed himself. It was pretty bad. I rolled my window down and woke him up. He looked surprised to see me. He was so fuckin wasted he could hardly talk, or stand up for that matter. He got up and threw himself on my car because he could not take a step. The whole drive home I worked myself up to telling him he could not come over. I pulled into a parking spot and turned the car off. I told him that I did not think he could come over tonite, and that I would drive him home. I told him I came here to grab my cigarettes and my weed. I told him that I had a bunch of shit to do to get ready for school on Monday. I could tell he was hurt by that. I went up stairs and told Sophia how I had found him, and how I told him I was going to drive him home. She was kinda pissed. But what the fuck, I could not abandon him.

I thought about how I always seem to find myself in situations where I can not make a move without making someone upset. I just try to tread lightly. Back in the car my father was passed out. He asked me where I was taking him. I told him home. he said Daly City was far, and that I was making a big mistake. I could tell he was upset. He tried playing a guilt trip on me telling me how he brought shit over for his grandkids, and how he had money to help with my mortgage. He kept telling me how I was making a big mistake, because of all the money he could give me. I told him I did not give a shit about any of that. It only gets in the way, I said. I could tell he was pissed off, he was sulking like a fuckin kid. I decide to come clean. I put my hand on his shoulder and told him that I loved him, he was my father, and that I was not trying to hurt him. I told him that it hurt to see him this way. And that the only reason I was taking him home was because he was so fuckin faded. He shrugged my hand off his shoulder and told me that he was not wasted. I'm not fucked up, I am not fucked up, he said. Sure I have had a little to drink, but I am not a fuckin bum, dude, he said. Denial is not a sin, but it should be. Just come clean dad, I said. I thought it would not be right to point out he was so wasted that he soiled himself. We argued for a minute. I asked my father what the fuck he expected me to do. He had no reply. I told him I was willing to help and support him, but only as far as he was willing to help himself (which is true for anyone close to me), I asked him if he understood that. Yeah, dude, I do..I do, he said.

Then he got all serious on me and started making biblical references about my name (again). He told me Sophia does not understand the ramifications of being with me, because of who I am. He asked if I understood the ramifications of being who I was. I told him, yeah dad, and it scares the shit out of me.

I was on the 101 south, and my dad was passed out, suddenly he looked up at me. Who are you? he asked. What, I said. Who are you? he asked again, he was serious. Dad, it's me, I said. Oh, dude, it's you where are we going? he asked. I am taking you home dad, don't you remember what we were just talking about? I asked. No dude, I sure don't, I don't want to go home, I want to go to your house, dude. He said. I lit another cigarette. I dropped him off around midnight. He used my phone to call Lucy, and she was pissed. I could hear her yelling at him through the phone. I dropped him off and called Sarah back and told her what happened. I am the only one who cares for my father. Filial Piety is important to me and my development as a man no matter what ny parents or family has done I will always honor them, and try my best to make them proud. It is a virtue that makes one a better person, I would be very pleased with myself knowing I was the pride of the family.

Driving home and for a while after that I felt guilty. Like I had done something wrong. But fuck it, I have to be strong and make sense of this. I am not supposed to die of a broken heart.