Archive

Tag Archives: Creative Writing

How I Lost and Found My Mind, a short story, Part: 1

December 27, 2013
Creative Writing, How I Lost and Found my Mind, Short Stories and Projects
Leave a comment

It all started the day my dog died… his name was Dionysus, my mom named him. She’s a big philosophy geek, he gets mentioned in text a lot.

I didn’t mind the name so much when I found out who the guy was in Greek mythology. I thought it suited Dino well; he was a born party animal! I mean, he made a lot of noise, ate far more  than his fill, and went after just about every schnauzer, terrier, poodle... Let’s just say he got more action with those dogs than I did with my upright, smooth skinned counterparts. And he only got to explore the world on walks in the neighborhood or in his sneakier fence tunneling operations.

Shit, I was supposed to talk about something…

Oh right!

Depression. And I mean DEPRESSION.  Capital-D. Who could have guessed that would do it? Dino’s passing. Better question, who would’ve said I was anything BUT depressed before the fact?

I’ve faced deaths in the family, love interests turned mortal enemies, friends betraying friends, hell two of our family’s faithful companions had been put to sleep before we even adopted Dionysus.

I’ve cried in remorse, fucking terribly, balls to the wall baller-session after my Grandma passed away (my dad’s mom).  Drunk, and putting a cherry on top at an open-bar for my friend Sandy’s graduation (No one was carding, I indulged); literally pouring down the shame.

I was thinking about the day before my grandma left for Europe; again. Once again, her and my grandpa made the annual visit. She had made that trip so many times, I thought nothing of it. It was just another few thousand frequent-flyer miles and a carry-on full of California staples to share with our eager relatives across the deep blue. I never saw her alive again.

I started crying after toasting my last swig to her. I thought a lot of how my Grandfather might have felt, watching his wife fade away, helpless, but being there for her. I know he was strong, or tried to be. You can’t blame anyone in that position for freaking out , but I like to hope he said some loving reassurances to keep calm. Never giving up hope, trying to get to the hospital in time. I tried to imagine the last smile she may have given him before letting go, just to say “it’s okay. They have Bingo in heaven. I love you”. I hope. I also never drank heavily again. Thanks Grandma.

I’ve been down in the dumps, yes. No denying that. And you wouldn’t believe me even if I swore otherwise. You might say I was depressed since the day of my grandmother’s passing.

Not really in a dangerous way though (my therapist claims otherwise these days). It was this dull aching that never subsided. It didn’t freeze me in time so that I couldn’t see the future anymore. But I guess I wasn’t “okay enough” with the idea of a no-grandma-filled future. I had trouble accepting it. But a switch flipped; like any prideful alcoholic, I claimed myself to be a functioning bag of self-loathing. I picked myself up by withered handle, found a little thing called Mary Jane, and shit, life, went on; down some pesky river in Egypt.

Writer’s note: I hope to post an update to this story once a week. With a full time job and school to commit to, it will be difficult I am sure of that, but I will endure to the end. May you all enjoy and have a wonderful New Year! 🙂

Faith

December 27, 2013
Uncategorized
Leave a comment
Regarding faith, I am not one to pass judgment on others in life, especially when it comes to religion. Religion is not something I actively take part in as a member, but I do take lessons from all religion (attempt to at least) and try to apply them to my own life as a lot of the values appreciated in Christianity and Catholicism, even eastern religion, falls into line with what I consider morally just. I simply find it more pleasing to explore the boundaries of life and what it means to me. Limiting myself to a certain set of guidelines, in my opinion at least, takes away from what I can learn from my time here on earth. The good and the bad, I find both necessary to explore. Not to enforce, but to understand. I
 
I do however, feel a sense of a higher power in my life. Whether it is the Christian God, or the Greek Gods,  Karma, or my own God (Good Orderly Direction. The term came up in a writer’s workshop book and it stuck) I feel some presence. I can’t claim faith in any religion, but I do understand the necessity of their structure in our lives. I think even if Heaven and God, or Zeus and his clan etc. are all myths, they still provide a great structure for people to live by and allows them to live peacefully in a society that is working towards a universal goal. Which is usually eternal life after death (Death, being a major conundrum for humans in general). What I mean is it seems that they all attempt to deal with the difficulties of death for us, so that we can more easily focus on living virtuous lives without excess, or worry of what will happen to us posthumously. With faith, comes answers. Something humans have been craving for thousands of years.
 
And I do believe it has helped me through inclement weather, faith, in whatever presence I feel. I believe that having faith, in any respect, is something the human race needs. Be it in a God, or yourself. Otherwise we are simply bags of protoplasm waiting to go 6-feet under, or to leave a lasting impression on humanity for our own vanity. Both may lead down self-destructive paths. After-all, you’d be hard pressed to select a great influential figure in the history of intelligent human existence if they had no faith in themselves or some other higher power. 
Just my two-cents on faith, and what it means to me.

Hope

December 27, 2013
Creative Writing, Poetry
Leave a comment

Fleeting glimpses of a rainbow follow the storm

It scurries behind cumuli, shy

Aware of our curious eyes.

 

It bares the castles through nights we forge

In dreams telling of better days,

Of peace, of unity.

 

Through technicolor peculiarity, we’re entranced

Pawns immobile in a Giant’s hand.

Without choice, but to trust and…

hope.

The Mark

December 10, 2013
Creative Writing, Poetry
2 Comments

He finds a seat at his favorite watering hole

Orders a whiskey, three fingers.

Gets approached by a group of suited gentlemen

Pin-striped blazers, fedoras, greasy hair.

Too tired to talk, and too distracted to wonder

Why these dapper gents offered a wing to fit him under.

They tell him, “The game is rigged! You’ll never win

Without an edge, or lady luck’s enchanted grin.

We’ve got the booze, the broads, the corrupt feds

We’ll show you a good time, you’ll never regret it

We’ll break the house, and toll the bells to no end

Kid, we’ll go places, you’ll never forget it

I just need you for a minute, walk this bag across

The street to that gent’ in the snow-white hoody

And let him know, ‘the family’s got the goodies.

Keep in touch’ Simple as that, ratatat-tat”

He knows, this is his mark. He downs the whiskey tumbler

Slides off his stool, and adds a parting phrase

“Silly Rabbit, tricks are for kids” as he smashed the glass

Upside this gangster’s head. A golden shield, in full view.

The ranger’s .44 Magnum pointed at the rest of the stupefied crew

Some assholes just never see the badge.

—

I wrote this today while thinking about the recent Fallout 4 hoax and some mythical ranger scouting a bar in the wasteland to find the person responsible for it…

Café Nostalgie

November 26, 2013
Creative Writing, Poetry
Leave a comment

Spoiler alert: the book series “Youth in Revolt” is mentioned in the afterword and contains key spoilers, so avoid the bottom of the page if you haven’t read the book yet! 

Driving down an open road, the usual route

The sun-roof open, the sun still out

a woman’s smoky voice swims through

Airwaves as she sways and croons

Of love, far gone, still warm and true

—

I’ll park my car, in a familiar shadow

Under the willow, letting down

Autumn’s gold and amber hair

In piles I’d joyously dance around, but for

Who I see in this small cafe, I’m ill-prepared

—

I stop, I stutter, breathing shallow, rapid

Only moments left to run, before

My curious eyes are left raptured

By her angelic gaze, in a perfumed haze

Her captivating voice; oh! How I’m still amazed

—

The fading nail polish, the sandy hair,

Eyes of the purest sapphire,

That genuine smile so rare!

She returned from a journey afar

From exotic lands and sights to share.

—

She traveled with another, more divine than I

For she saw in him, a true believer; devout

Pure, free of sin, worthy of His watchful eye

And I, simply an underling, in endless drought

Struggled to dim the light I couldn’t live without

—

And now, face to face, I stand terrified,

Blinded by luminescent resurgence

Emotions I thought to be long efaced, resurface

My mouth moves, though little sound escapes

What brought me here? Why this cafe? Why today?!

—

I thought I’d never see her again, I guess

I hoped I’d never see her again.

Because I know that my offering is no match

For the love she has, and her pious ways.

She is meant for heaven. And I; Purgatory’s maze.

Afterword: I know this poem has had several alternate versions recently, but for me, when a poem of mine has intense personal meaning (Which is usually something I’ve experienced rather than dreamt or imagined), I often come back to it and add bits and pieces to give the story more context for the reader and for my future self. For example; when writing the more personable lines, my mind turns to chaos, and the details in my mind’s eye don’t always make it down on paper the first time around –or possibly even the second or third time– because my mind is not a quick one and easily affected. These small, sometimes grand details slip through the cracks and are only found once again as the dust settles. It’s safe to say I lose a lot of good material, but I love what I do 🙂 Also, the title is in French because I associate cafe’s and dumb love most often with the book “Youth In Revolt”. And how can I forget the way Nick lost everything in France, as Sheeni soon found herself shacking up with a noble Frenchman in a foreign and exotic land, while Nick had to find a way to purge her psychological presence. He never does… but he lives, and lives well

PS: I’m terribly sorry for the spoilers book!

Blue Lady

November 19, 2013
Creative Writing, Poetry
Leave a comment

This poem was greatly inspired by the late poet/author, Anne Sexton, and her poem, Red Roses.

I beg of you, fair Goddess, expatriate this vagabond soul!

Expel the wayward ways, the self-destruction, the tired eye

Lick the festered wounds and kiss the roses planted by

This Blue Lady in studded heels, dancing atop my heart to and fro

 

Lay to waste her Demonic presence in bright atomic clouds

Take away the key she was given, by the damned devil himself

Force free her desperate grip and send her back to hell!

Then bless my blackened heart, oh please fair Goddess,

To live free of ghoulish shrouds.

Rapture

November 15, 2013
Creative Writing, Poetry
1 Comment

Let me fall in love, deep, into the stars which are her eyes

Where she ensnares my wandering heart as azure currents

Describe a vibrant path toward lustful insurgence.

Unleash the delicate, aromatic kiss of Aphrodite’s sigh.

—-

Of wine and myrrh, pungent and sweet, inebriates and invades!

The soul of the damned and even the Gods’ holiest angel

She will rapt either, with a tender smile and limp wrist dangled

In her majestic strut, closing  in on helpless prey!

—-

I say, let me be helpless! Let her come softly

Or pounce as I gaze, in frightened amazement!

Let her tear into my chest, find a most torturous lament

Silence its negating pall! Let life swim through my veins, swiftly.

Love? No.

November 1, 2013
Creative Writing, Poetry
Leave a comment

You’ve never known any form of love.

Yet you claim to be fluent and wise.

The only “deep connection” you know,

Occurs between your thighs!

 

So don’t tell me about passion.

As far as I can tell,

Your “love” has been more mythical

Than Charon’s ferry ride to Hell!

 

I will falter and I will fall, but

I’ve never needed your asinine drawl

To brag about your harpy’s strut

And the men whom beckon at your call!

 

Then claim a broken heart, when

One of your specimens devolve

Beyond your visual standards, and

The mirage begins to dissolve!

To Be a Cynic

October 28, 2013
Creative Writing, Poetry
Leave a comment

Note: This may look awfully familiar to some! I dug it up and took another shot at it 🙂

To Be a Cynic:

This wasn’t the bar for me.

I already knew when that

Burly gentlemen

With “security” on his chest

Told me to tuck in my shirt…

My fucking shirt?!.

Coming from a roided out

Mongoloid;

Taking admittance at a glorified dive.

Is it my appearance? Am I not human enough?

Does my vagabond hair make you squirm?

Are my trousers not haute couture?

For a crowd so shrewd and resentful

Would acquire even Dionysus’ spurn

“Don’t worry I’ll be outta here soon (asshole)”

The “asshole” was inferred…

…Anyway

It was a birthday party;

I barely knew the host.

I Met her at a party once

Since then she’s been a ghost.

She walks a fine line

Between a mere Human and

Divine.

Wearing a little black dress,

Brown hair down,

And no makeup, unlike the rest.

Classy with the devil in her eyes.

Though, the music is too loud.

No conversation to be had.

Just jive with the music,

And nod as if you understand.

She doesn’t remember my name.

It’s cool.

I got you an adventurous book

And some wine,

For a rainy day.

The best taste without taking out a loan

Or so I’m told.

Enjoy it in your easy chair,

Near the fireplace, if you have one.

Or scatter candles everywhere.

If you dare…

Lose yourself in a fantasy world

Far away from our own

I long to go with you,

But it’s time for me to go home

A bitter-sweet ending

Saved from the DJ’s assault

Yet ripped from a heavenly sight

Because the cynic in me, rules the night