He'd be a lot different if it wasn't for that.
Because he believed the actions of the outside affect the actions of the inside.
He brooded upon it, often at night, when he was alone and he couldn't sleep, as he smoked cigarette after cigarette.
He thought about it as it stood in the middle of his mindscape.
And his thoughts about it were under the mindscape like a paved-over river that flowed through a city, and it was in his mindscape like a fog. it was always in and on his mind and thoughts. It just wouldn't go away by itself, and he couldn't push it away.
And just what was it, exactly?
He couldn't say for sure, because if he brought it to the front of his mind, it overwhelmed him and stop him from speaks. It felt as if his blood had been replaced by quick-drying cement.
But can we -- that is, you and I -- talk about it?
Sure. I know what it was. And I know you want to know about it. But if I told you now, then we wouldn't have much of a story left, would we?
What it was.
What it was.
What it was.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
The Girl From The Class Of 1970
The Girl from the Class of 1970 wore lipstick that tinted her lips to match the color of her skin. (By the way, she was Caucasian.)
She also had a flat-looking face that showed no emotion. It came with a turned-down mouth and strangely dark eyebrows and eyelashes.
She also was skinny.
Harrison felt disgust when he saw her. He thought: She must want to look like a corpse. Maybe because she wants to be a corpse? Maybe because she wants to die?
It wasn't until years later, when he first saw a picture of a Kabuki actor, that the resemblance between him and her came to him.
He wasn't surprised when, about eight to ten years later, he read in the local newspaper that she had died. He heard it was from an overdose of sleeping pills mixed with alcohol.
She also had a flat-looking face that showed no emotion. It came with a turned-down mouth and strangely dark eyebrows and eyelashes.
She also was skinny.
Harrison felt disgust when he saw her. He thought: She must want to look like a corpse. Maybe because she wants to be a corpse? Maybe because she wants to die?
It wasn't until years later, when he first saw a picture of a Kabuki actor, that the resemblance between him and her came to him.
He wasn't surprised when, about eight to ten years later, he read in the local newspaper that she had died. He heard it was from an overdose of sleeping pills mixed with alcohol.
The Passover Card
At sunset today starts Passover, the Jewish holiday that marks the exodus of the Hebrews from Egypt to the Promised Land of Canaan.
I once bought a Jewish couple I knew a Passover card. Its front showed the hand of God pointing to the Ten Commandements written on two stone tablets. He was telling Moses: "Take two of these of call me in the morning."
Little did I know that:
I once bought a Jewish couple I knew a Passover card. Its front showed the hand of God pointing to the Ten Commandements written on two stone tablets. He was telling Moses: "Take two of these of call me in the morning."
Little did I know that:
- He was stealing from his company;
- She was cheating on him.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Silent, Stifiled, Sleeping Screams
One
Somewhere in the back of his mind sleeps a scream, because the time for it to fly has not yet come.
Besides, men don't scream unless they just can't stand their tortures any more and their souls go down. Or the pain flows like water high and strong enough over the dams, dikes, and levees of the ego.
Such are the screams in the back of his mind. It's as if he's in a room, with the door closed, anxious to sleep, but the screams prowl and sound in the halls outside the room like rabid and ravenous wolves.
Two
Many have been the times that he stifled screams because of repercussions:
such repressions lead to strokes, anurysms, and heart attacks.
Somewhere in the back of his mind sleeps a scream, because the time for it to fly has not yet come.
Besides, men don't scream unless they just can't stand their tortures any more and their souls go down. Or the pain flows like water high and strong enough over the dams, dikes, and levees of the ego.
Such are the screams in the back of his mind. It's as if he's in a room, with the door closed, anxious to sleep, but the screams prowl and sound in the halls outside the room like rabid and ravenous wolves.
Two
Many have been the times that he stifled screams because of repercussions:
- It's not that important;
- Not here;
- Not to him or her or them or it;
such repressions lead to strokes, anurysms, and heart attacks.
Just Wondering ...
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