A young man stood upon the rocks in ocean beach, peering into the vast darkness. A land, or space, or existence that held breadth and terrible power within. The waves are ever constant, in five’s or maybe seven’s did a large one come forth. A distant light catches his eye, as a voice from within begins.
“You’d never make that swim,” the ocean swirls upon the rocks to his right. Cresting high upon the barnacles, white froth displaying the water’s torment. “You’d tire just far enough off shore you couldn’t return, and not far enough to make it.”
The water recedes out as sanderlings run in. The young man takes two steps further to the edge.
“It’d be like everything else,” a wave sends a small flurry of splash across his face, and spurs small ripples in tiny tide pools.
“Like Jonathan,” a young nude couple runs down to a small private beach between the rocks. They laugh, as she tries throwing him into the now on-coming wave. He tugs her teasingly but sends her falling into the water.
“Or Aaron,” a piercing scream comes from the young nude girl as the frigid water rushes over her. The wave recedes as they both giggle, now allowing sand to cling to their bare skin.
The light still shines, off in the distance, across this barren space, full of unknown dangers.
‘The big one is due’ he thinks to himself watching the water swirl around the rocks, then the white crest of the in-coming waves tumbling upon themselves. The blue moon shines imperiously upon the surface, demanding attention, and breeding insight.
“Everything you’ve tried, you’ve failed at lately.” Another wave washes in, traveling up a small fissure within the stone embankment. The young man sits now at the edge of the slippery rock. Another wave crashes in, but still of no “big” proportion. The water churns below his feet, swishing and unpredictably taking paths not taken the same before.
The light from a boat off in the distance has traveled slightly to the right, both blue and red lights still bequeath their light, and strength upon the barren land.
“Failure is something that must be learned to be taken,” small waves continue to wash upon the shore. The young nude couple has quieted, except for a random female pleasure song. A long hoot is heard from a-top the steps as three college kids arrive to indulge in drinking, and eventually driving.
The moon shines promisingly on a white-cap well off to sea. ‘This could be the big one,’ it had been seven, eight, nine, since the last swell.
“Sharks infest these waters. They feed at night. You’ll be chum,”
‘the swell!’ he hoped. There were rocks beneath him, capable of bending his skeleton in ways not meant. It could snag him and hold him there, if that were her intent.
“He’s gone too far,” a whooshing noise came.
“You’d never make the swim,” the white caps frothed and exploded as they should.
The college students arrived upon the rocks.
Hollering ensued. The nude girl screamed in artificial orgasmic praise. Our young man planted the heels of his hands steadfast upon the rock.
The wave came in.
‘Nothing’ a small wave ran into the big wave, and reduced its power. The lone young man stood. Bottles smashed behind him as the reckless college kids wreaked havoc on this sacred place.
He walked past the three college kids, falling upon their 24 bottle load.
“Fuck you!” They yelled.
“Fuck you!” He yelled back.
“What did he just say?” The one asked to the other. Another waved crashed upon the barnacles, and rocks, and sand, and love making one-night-stand. He jumped from the rock to the private beach where the lovers once rolled in sand.
“Go get that fuckin faggot!” One collegiate roared at the other.
The pants of our lone young man loosened and fell to his ankles. He stepped from them.
“Dude really is a fag! Fuckin’ get him!” He marched past the nude girl whimpering in fake pleasure as her knight shook above her. The small wave caught his toes, then his feet, then his calves, it’s fuckin’ cold!’ he yelled at himself. Sand was flying high with the run-prints of his potential attacker closing in. The next wave, a medium one, rose to his thighs as he purged through the water. The shirt came off next to reveal the fat of the old relationships bearing heavily upon him. A sight no one in the modern world would want to see, fat, man-boobs, and a gut jiggling upon the slightest vibration from the universe.
“You’re going to die,” the voice rang within him.
‘if it gets me away from you’ he thought.
“Get back here! Are you nuts!” The drunken scholar hollered.
Sanderlings rushed in with the receding wave, as our young swimming loner took off to sea. The crest of the next wave intruded upon his sight of the light that lay off in the distance. No foot could be placed upon the ocean floor as it dipped quickly: nearly relentlessly. She, the ocean, demanded the strength and endurance of only a man.
The sound of water lapping around him stirred nothing within him. ‘I have to get to that boat’ he demanded.
“Get back here! Homo!” Roared the intelligently educated master of the arts upon his mast.
“You’ll die!” Roared the voice within.
With that, he saw it. The wave he was going to jump into upon the rocks. The one he hoped would carry him out to sea, to the boat where he needed to be. It raised high above the waves that crested behind him.
‘I’ll take you’ he said sure of himself. Ready to take a deep breath and ride her recession out to the boat. The boat that was now three-quarters a mile away.
“You’ll be chum.”
“Dude!” The collegiate sang, swimming in fifteen feet of water. Our lone-swimming young man was fifty yards from the rocks now. The houses and lights shown oddly about the shore. Perhaps it was the cold gripping him, perhaps it was this new perspective.
‘no time to linger’ he determined himself. He continued to swim, as the big wave went beneath him as nothing.
The splash of his arm, upon arm, upon stroke, upon stroke wore upon him. The unexpected wavelength cast salt water to his lungs. The swim was still to be made.
‘am I mad’ he asked of himself.
“Chum,” was all he heard back. Rarely could he here the call for what now sounded as a concerned college kid yelling from the rocks.
Peace was here now, while his breathing increased. He remembered his swim classes, “look away from the fishies; talk to the fishies.”
The lights of the boat went further than he could have hoped. Land was so far in the distance only a speckle of light shown where he once was. The poor girl, devoid of sexual pleasure assuredly made her male mate feel competent, the college boys probably talked about the crazy guy that went for a swim.
“You should have stayed, he would have come back for you,” the nagging voice ensued.
‘and then WHAT!’ the lone swimmer screamed before talking to the fishies.
“He would have taken you back,” the voice continued.
‘no.’ the swimmer continued. He continued to swim, he was making better time than ever before. ‘no he wouldn’t have’
“So why!” The voice asked. The swimmer continued to paddle. Wave upon wave, he felt the oceans force. “Why do this?”
‘Because I have to!’ he yelled within himself. His limbs were growing numb, the lights from the boat nearly getting further away. He took a second to wade water.
‘it’s only in my mind’ he said looking upon the darkness that surrounded him on all sides.
“This is no longer just your mind,” the voice of reality came in. It was true. All things ventured lately were failures, but he wasn’t going to give up on this. He continued to swim.
“You’ll never make it,” the waves lapped his face. He didn’t dare think of what may be trailing him, lurking, stalking, getting close. Though peaceful, it was loud; between the heavy breathing and the splash of each stroke he took. The cold water and his efforts bore down upon him.
‘I’ll never make it’
The ocean is a strange and powerful creature, so full of life it carries a soul of its own. A soul that reserves itself for no man, beast or fowl. A soul content with being beautiful, gently caressing places she holds dear, but bolstering a power never meant to be taken lightly. Rarely does she help to make one persevere, it had to be there before ever tempting her.
The ease of swimming to shore was not one our lone swimming broken-hearted boy ever intended. He could still hear what still sounded as a concerned college kid. Yet he was too far out.
“What are you doing!?” He heard. “I’m turning around!”
His jaw nearly dropped. The feeling of stalking wasn’t from a shark! Someone was following him, the college kid from the shore!
‘what is he thinking?’ he thought angrily swimming back where the voice came from.
“Where are you?” The voice called.
“Here!” He yelled.
“Here!” He splashed about to ensure he was heard. He swam faster than he had before.
‘someone really cares!’ he thought excitedly. The waves propelled him now. As he rose with the waves he could see a head not far off in the distance.
“Don’t do this man!” The head called.
“I’m coming back!” Our loner responded.
“C’mon, last one to shore is a chicken leg,” the college student yelled.
They swam, faster and faster. Head to head. And soon arrived to shore tired of their efforts, and breathing with sharp inhales.
“Why did you follow me?” Our loner asked.
“I couldn’t stand to watch someone try and off themselves.”
He looked at him. The kid was handsome, built, and had eyes that sparkled in the spotlights from above.”I wasn’t going to off myself,” he responded. The waves crashed around them.
“Then why would you swim off into the night ocean?” The student asked. Our boy looked out to the ocean, only a small flicker of light shown from the boat he was going to swim to, even if death had met him.
“I do it all the time,” he said, then scooching closer to the young man, “will you hold me?”
“What? No!” The student responded, still too out of breath to move.
“Right,” the loner responded seeing a kayak lantern off in the distance. He stood as the strong seventh wave came in. “You stay here,” he commanded. Then looked back at the handsome young man who thought he was saving a life. “I never would have made it, if it weren’t for you.” He said, then turning back to the lone lantern. He estimated a twenty minute swim to it. “Keep your faith alive in humanity. But this one has to make it alone.” He said walking then trudging into the ocean. He would embark upon the path he told himself he couldn’t make. The belief in humans renewed he had a plan, and one that wouldn’t require too much swimming.
With every day that passes called off from work; I simply do nothing. I’ll watch youtube and type away at my book from seven years ago, and groan over my unsuccessful writing. I realize that while I write to write and tell a story or five twisted into a way it only makes sense to me; I could really avoid some of this agony by following ten different things.
1. Stop Reading “10 best ways to…”
Being subscribed to multiple news letters there’s always a ten best, ten things, or ten miracle secrets, I always wind up reading. What’s terrible about this is there are many commentaries which make me feel inadequate. For example one I read recently on e-book marketing talks of the “Dead” model of books; “This is an example of a dead book. The author only receives five downloads a day, only one paid download every other day. This merely results in a negative profit. More likely causes could be the writing isn’t captivating…” I wish I had sales like that! While these spawn good ideas that I painstakingly try to copy it only ever leads to more agony.
2. Stop spending my entire day off, writing.
So my muse, Hemingway, said a true writer writes everyday. Well I certainly do, but on my days off I seem to do nothing but leave my chair to smoke a cigarette or grab another beer. While sometimes my imagination is flowing and captivating, I only re-write what I wrote the next day resulting in a horrendous cycle of not-getting-anything-accomplished.
3. Stop staring at Statistics
While statistics are a good way to help formulate a snap shot of my writing performance, staring doesn’t make a difference. Punching numbers into a calculator doesn’t increase my odds, or ever make me feel any better. I sometimes literally stare at the bar graph or line chart and wonder why it continues to dip back to ZERO!
4. Stop trying to find a good place to write, and just write!
Searching for a good place to write only seems to take up more of my time that I could be spending writing. While location is important to inspiration, searching for a location along the beach is nearly impossible. I could stop in at Hillcrest sit at a cafe and write, but then my eyes are drawn to the men around me which inevitably leads to my discovery of the bar. Then, well, it’s all over from there. Thanks Hemingway.
5. Stop thinking of things I can buy when I don’t have the resources to buy
In a day I will get bored with writing or just demand a break from it. Then I begin to play with gadgets on my computer, all leading to things I could buy to “help” me out a bit. I need business cards, a good website, a nook, and more books on the topic of writing. I don’t have money for those sorts of things. I promise myself I will invest the money I make from my writing into those items when I begin making money. Is that wrong? Well, not going to happen for a little at least.
6. Spread out my time
Don’t worry about just my book. I have other platforms I need to continue to use. I hate getting emails from Examiner.com stating I’ve lost my status of “premier article presenter” if that even exists. While I have a big project in front of me, rewriting my old works for the release of my latest book, I can’t forget about those little side projects.
7. GET OUT OF THE HOUSE!
While appearing as a modern day Bo Radley might seem fun and twisted; there is nothing exciting about it. A hermit I can call myself. Approaching three months that I have been in San Diego and I barely know the names of anything around here, only the streets and highways I take to work. While worried about spending too much money, which I always seem to do, there are plenty of free things to do.
8. Pick up another lesson in Grammar
Folks, I believe I have said it since day one, but Grammar KILLS ME! I love to use comma’s and apostrophe’s where they aren’t really supposed to, go. (<-HAHA, get it!) Maybe if I took a small break from writing a thousand hours of my day away I could pick up a few valuable lessons in Grammar.
9. Stop stressing about my Query Letter
I literally have a thousand versions that all sound good to me. Randomly, while writing The Unexpected, I ‘ll get yet another idea for it. I then open up my choice of fifteen different word documents all containing hooks and bodies of query letters. Practice makes perfect, but right now. I don’t need to be worrying about the Query letter when I have all of these other things gathering.
10. Drink more beer
Actually that’s a bit of a lie, I should be drinking less. Though in moments of writers block or severe writer’s agony the icy cold refreshment usually represents a way to relax and just write. While I will spend the entire next day editing what I wrote while drinking beer at least I wrote. This is no way to go about writing though, as I should learn again from Mr. Hemingway and his friend Fitzgerald.
To sum things up. I need to let my craft be my craft while honing in on some of the not-so-fun aspects such as grammar. I will get there but maybe in the mean time I could take some of my own advice as listed above.
Waking up at a gas station in your car is quite a reality checker. I couldn’t help but to ponder what turn we didn’t make that cost us so many hours. This portion of the trip was only meant to take 22 hours, and yet we drove for 16 yesterday and still had an additional 11 to go. Six hours just to get to the Grand Canyon. So we drove.
By day four of Mary sucking at her teeth every two minutes, it began to drive me mad. It was truly getting under my skin. What killed me worse was I had no clue how to get her to stop. She claimed she had something in her teeth. Well, Mary, we have stopped over twenty times so far on this trip why haven’t you picked up something to get it out!? That was just one indication that the time in the car was beginning to take its toll.
After following a snow capped mountain for miles we finally began to wrap around the base of it. There were several more behind it. Traveling up and over smaller gullies and hills we were greeted with signs of “Maribou crossing”, as my tired mind called them.
“Oh I hope we see Maribou!” I say. Then Mary without thinking too much on it either states.
“Yeah, it would really be cool to see a Maribou.” Yeah we kept that up for about an hour before we realized how dumb we sounded! We were in the middle of luscious hills with fantastic views. Passing signs stating we were at elevation: 7000. At points the sky beyond almost looked like an ocean as the clouds came lower in our line of sight, we were so high. Without making a fuss my car continued on it’s path.
A gas station coming into view lent a perfect opportunity to listen to the three voice mails that magically appeared on my phone and check out the number that had called about five times already. It was Visa. They were going to terminate process on my card if I could not verify that I was making these transactions which had now accrued over a few grand. Thank goodness I was able to get that sorted out or we would have had some serious issues!
Approaching the Grand Canyon I couldn’t help but to feel a bit uneducated. I had always assumed that it was pure desert on both sides of this marvelous display. My eyes have now proven this to be false. What an amazing place it was though. You literally can not fathom how amazing this place is without actually seeing it with your own eyes. The distance to the bottom, the distance to the other side, the slope, and the lack of rails along the trail. But then again, if you know me that spelled GOOD TIME!
Freaking Mary out as much as I could I went careening out on snow covered rocks. I wanted to try getting to the furthest outcropping with the soil being so moist and my shoes so very slick. I could have played all day. I watched enviously as a group of three guys made a gigantic leap out onto an outcropping I would have nearly deemed impossible to be on. Then as they came back, they decided to climb the side of a small cliff to get back up. Well from where we stood if they fell the slightest bit, it would have been good bye! The ledge they used to hoist themselves up was only two feet wide, beneath that a fifteen foot fall to the next little slope. That little slope was nearly 80 degrees! With about fifteen feet to roll down then a fifty foot cliff. Once they fell off that cliff they would hit a small rock, bouncing off the side then flying a good hundred feet to the next slope which was maybe 65 degrees. There could be hope to catch yourself here before you continue the fall of about a mile to the bottom of the Canyon. So Jealous! What a thrill!
We walked along some of the path before Mary finally stated she was over it! Over it! Do you realize how amazing this is? I made her stick around for about ten more minutes before we began the walk back to the car. I just couldn’t stop looking out over the freaking canyon! It was huge!
On the way back to the car we were treated to a nice little show by a local fat squirrel. This guy was fat! He was trying to get into a travelers back pack. A small crowd of seven including us and a photographer watched as he successfully manipulated a zipper to get to the inside of the bag. The lady clearly didn’t want him in there as she picked it up. Our fat little friend simple jumped off the bench and waddled towards the lady, gently pawing at her pants. Not sure whether this scared her slightly (think evil alvin and the chipmunks) or if she realized the true entertainment value this squirrel had now that fifteen people were watching him go. A good fifteen minutes of this went on before he finally ran off to attack some other innocent bystander.
Back on the road we managed to take a few cheap pictures of airplanes we figured our dad would enjoy seeing, made an illegal and highly dangerous u-turn on the highway (I didn’t notice there was a fifteen foot drop two feet from where my skidding tires finally stopped), and confused Laughlin, Nevada with Vegas (Easy I had never been there!). Two hours after Laughlin we finally made it to Las Vegas. Here was another one. Breathtaking. The span of lights goes on forever. I don’t believe I have ever seen more lights! Bigger than New York City and way more miraculous. Mary and I just let our mouths gape at the amazing site that lay ahead of us. We couldn’t even see the Luxor hotel that we were to be staying at even though they boast to have the brightest spot light in America.
Standing in line for twenty minutes we finally checked into our room, which we got in the tower not the casino, aw shux. Very nice room, and prompt service when the television wasn’t working. Though we were tired and I really didn’t have much money to play with anymore I decided a $40 allowance each would do well. We started with a drink while I played a stupid game to warm up. I have never gambled! I watched the ex play all the time and therefore felt I had a pretty good idea of Blackjack. Not confident enough to hit up the live tables I settled myself into a $5 minimum Blackjack computer table with a very nice lady sipping her Long Island. It only took two minutes before I was in the game! Woah baby! Making that money like it was nobody’s business. Mary didn’t even know how to take me sitting there and gambling a hundred dollars at a time!
Then some guy came over hovering over my shoulder asking questions blah blah blah. Next thing I know Mary’s gone and he is too. Slowly starting to freak out I start looking all around for her she finally comes over stupid smile on her face and cigarette hanging. “I’m so drunk Bubby!”
O lord. Trying to teach her how to play with her last ten dollars and forty cents wasn’t a great idea. Before I know it this guy is back and telling Mary how devoted he is as a father, and how his wife cheated on him. Mary’s consoling him. Now I only have $120 left! I was focusing on what idiocy the guy was having to say to my sister, knowing she was drunk, rather than playing the game. I cashed out under $100 and called their conversation quits.
Back in the room Mary thought she was still good to go all night. After just a few minutes she was PASSED out! I almost tip toed back downstairs to play the game well again, but knew I’d be worried she wake up and not be able to find me, and then goodness knows what would happen. We needed our sleep. We had the Hoover dam tomorrow and then our final destination immediately after that. Though I was so excited to be sitting at the Luxor hotel, I couldn’t have been happier to only be one day away from my beautiful and coveted San Diego.
Three thirty in the morning I woke, after a 30 minute nap. It was pertinent that we be on the road by four in order to avoid some of the heaviest traffic in and around the cities at the busiest time of day. Watching the weather, it also looked like we would be driving through a snow storm just south of Philadelphia. It was said to be capable of 3-6 inches, and 8-10 near D.C. This could easily slow the progress, not to mention heighten the risk of driving making it quite dangerous. Behind that storm, and brewing just over Texas was a huge rain storm that easily took up five southern states. Nothing like driving through snow and rain for five days. I looked around my dark room and saw the results of my packing. Love seat gone, now boxes piled upon Rubbermaid containers.
I jumped out of the comfort of my bed to make sufficient coffee to get me over the first part of the mornings drive. My heart was already racing in anticipation of the travel ahead. I filled the machine and pressed start before the noises above me signaled that the family knew I was awake. They would soon join me around the kitchen table to say their farewells. But I had to get moving with putting everything into the car. First I took the larger items, stopped to pour myself some coffee, then began taking out the odds and ends. For the most part everything was fitting together well. Mary, my sister who was going to be joining me on my journey, still wasn’t around. I hurried my already tired legs to the attic to see what she was doing.
Of course she was still sleeping! I finished loading the car with continuous vocalized prompts to “hurry up” towards my sister. Finally by 4:45 we were ready to rock. I said my farewells to an amazing man, and to my family before we started up the car in the brisk thirty-two degree weather. Once we began driving we both realized the comfort of a stuffed car. Seats were pushed almost all the way forward, there was no elbow space, and poor Mary had a bag under her legs, her computer bag, and her packed bag on her lap. I blasted some techno music from my CD’s the first hour, then encouraged Mary to grab the CD titled ‘I’m Somewhat Gangsta’ and put that in. It was more her style of music. I wanted to make her a bit more comfortable considering how much stuff she had weighing down on her.
Almost a full two hours passed before we had to make our first pit stop. Opening the doors reminded us of the freezing temperatures we were in. It was of no help to us that the wind was blowing harshly, beating against our faces. We went through Gettysburg, then Virginia, then Maryland, North Carolina, and then South Carolina. Following the route Google instructed us to go, it got questionable. We took an exit and found ourselves on some back roads. For miles there were abandoned houses. Randomly we’d see someone sitting on a chair out front of one of these houses, don’t worry, it still looked abandoned. Swamps lined the road with oak trees dripping Spanish moss. The sixty two degree weather encouraged us to roll down the roadways with our windows down. Only once to quickly roll them up when two dogs came running out to the car, next to yet another abandoned house.
Soon we had found a small Exxon. It was at the only developed corner we had run into the whole time in South Carolina. Walking inside, I wanted to be happy hearing the funny way they talked. It was tough due to their physical appearance. Just you know, not used to going out on the town. I smiled ear to ear anyway, which is when they all looked at me like I was the crazy one. I also didn’t have a full story to go along with my purchase, which alerted them that I was a foreigner to these parts. “Marlboro menthol lights,” I informed the lady I needed. She started talkin ta me. I rightly could hardlee unerstan wha she wa sayun. I smiled politely and gave her money. I think she gave up on me then, because she didn’t really have much else to say with her southern accent to a degree further than anyone could ever imagine.
We finally made it to our destination only an hour after my run in with the locals at the Exxon. Palm trees were more exuberant, red roads intersected and ran parallel, and the buildings were suddenly inhabited. Turning onto Ocean Boulevard was a treat, as it was lined with beautiful hotels, and entertaining shops. It was easy to identify this as a tourist or vacation spot. Palm trees lined the streets, and people walked lazily by the shops. The sky was a beautiful blue and the ocean happily reflected it. We got to the hotel and checked into the rooms. Mary, was on the sixth floor with an ocean view and small balcony. I was on the sixteenth floor in a corner suite. I was honestly hoping for more on my first suite visit, but it was still pretty neat. Hey I had a living room!
After the exploration of our rooms, I couldn’t stand the want for a nap and a beer. We went down to the closest gas station and picked up a case of beer. I had an exciting night ahead of me, and absolutely had to get my nap and a shower before I would face the town.
By the end of day one, I had excitedly navigated through the ninety five and seen some wonderful sights. I had a burning desire in my heart. It was there, pulsating, and making me shake. I couldn’t have been happier to be there; homeless and living without a care.
I stood, music blaring in my ear, staring out of the kitchen window. The grass was green yet, but was dying due to the constant and confusing fluctuations in temperature. A mild winter ranging from 20 to 50 within only a days time caused this conflicted grass. I was on cigarette number three and cup of coffee number four. Able to justify my apparent laziness, as I had only woken up forty five minutes earlier, the thought of the move loomed in my thoughts. There was plenty to do. I had hardly begun packing, laundry wasn’t done, and the enchanting evening prior played on repeat in my minds eye.
The smoke from my cigarettes played in the sun’s light. Curling and twisting to make a scene that added to my sense of dreaming. A smile had planted itself upon my face and I had no intention on changing that. Theses moments that I considered “waking up” was a time when I would plan things out. I would decide the most important things to do within the day, which goals to set and achieve, and my course of action. Once upon a time I would have a pen and paper near by so I could jot down my thoughts, even if to re-organize them later. Today, and many days prior, I felt it best to just “go with the flow.” Yet another fantastic way of minimizing the laziness which had crept so horribly into my life.
As of now there was no way to alter what had been decided. The prestigious job that I held was now in the hands of someone else. Insurance cuts off the last day worked as well. That has and continues to be deemed an issue. Last day worked I had to go to the doctor due to a nasty and quick flare up of strep throat. In addition my mornings coffee seemed to be taking a short cut out of my body. My boss, and the team, had already begun realizing how great life was without the loud singing and obnoxious noise making. The plan was set into motion, time bidding to take every moment hostage, and my yearning to do anything diminishing; by the second time held in it’s possession. Weeks prior I had fooled myself into believing that there was so much time. Now as I stood on the last morning that I would wake in Pennsylvania I knew I had been a fool. I may have planned too close, too close to a perfect time, that the money might not be there.
The last few weeks had been an amazing time. Thanksgiving I had found a wonderful new group of friends. Happy, beautiful, and responsible gay men. Time spent with them reminded me of how wonderful life was. How people were good. How a good time wasn’t just me laughing at mundane things while under the snare of beer. They didn’t say a word when they saw me drink. Not that they approved, but they watched with a careful eye. As a nervous mother watching her child with the neighborhood bully, afraid of the influence, while worried of his protection.
Thrashing the old cigarette around in the ash tray to diminish the ashes; left me pondering the other events I had planned for the remainder of the day. My grandmother came up a lot. I had missed seeing her this past Christmas. The one I blamed work for the reason why I couldn’t see anyone. While I closed up and hurled myself into gloom knowing the other half of my dream relationship and life was sitting in front of the fireplace by the tree he decorated, with his boyfriend of three months (you do the math). I had also managed to dodge every one of my father’s calls as well. I had to see them. I would see them.
San Diego was so close and yet I was so far behind. So excited to go, yet there was a very clear unconscious effort that screamed, “I don’t wanna go!” Damn unconscious, it always focuses on what I have, and what is comfortable. He didn’t want to focus on the excitement that lay ahead in the new chapter of my life. The acting, the surfing, the writing, the living, the singing, the dancing, the friends. A whole new life that beckoned me to join. A whole new life, I couldn’t wait to discover.
Thank you for reading,
Caleb A. Mertz