Validation

I'm a writer. Writers write. If a writer doesn't write, they are no longer a writer; they become a ... er... I don't know. Perhaps I answered my own question. One doesn't always need precise punctuation to communicate an inquiry. That's why this work exists; The question that I am a writer. And this post is a flawed validation of a false-found identity. Scrawled notes on a torn cheap napkin are not a testament of profession, just as an infant's screams are not worthy to be for the director of music with stringed instruments such as the Psalms of King David. Neither did my papa or my Abba introduce me to others as "This is my writer, who I love." Instead, this is a self-imposed, unfulfilled prophecy I have declared to myself; a stick of dynamite with a wick I shove toward toward gun powder.  And with a half a dozen full-faced moons having looked over my shoulder asking, "What cha got there?" To myself, I wait for the 13 days til they turn around, but I'm not that impolite, so I tell them what it is and what it will be; "Nothing new."

I've got nothing new. Sorry to disappoint.

I'm Still A Little Hungry

A conveyer belt passing dish after dish.

I recognize that the green stripe along the rim of the plastic plates would let me keep another fifty cents in my pocket. Two quarters are useful for a lot of things. A number of illusions can be performed by making the audience believe you only have one quarter in your possession. I personally prefer fifty pennies so I can assemble them end to end into a large circle with nearly a foot long diameter. Obviously, I will turn those coins into anything but a profit or investment, but that's not the point. I need help staying with the theme I'm hoping to convey about life, reluctance, and regrets. Talking about coins will not help me especially when I'm going to pay with a debit card.

I'm talking about sushi. Not even that much sushi. It's 4:30 on a tuesday afternoon. But, it is enough sushi to know that I don't want much or any of it. Eighty percent of it has cream cheese in it and the other fifteen percent simply looks sad. I'm not counting the juice they're selling, but it's being offered and who am I to take away its well-deserved five percent presence. I guess there are the rolls with the fish or whatever on top and they have nuts sprinkled about. I'm not sure if they're added for flavor or fashion, but I eat whatever bits I can get in a bite. While my taste buds agree with them, I don't believe my stomach holds the same opinion. Not sure if it's the crab substitute inside or the amount of it I eat, but my stomach is a stubborn politician and will not be swayed.

What is the protocol for a scenario like this? I'm hungry, but the belt isn't conveying offerings that I find beneficial or pleasant. Am I being too picky? Maybe I'd like cream cheese if it's with rice and cucumber. Do I simply know what's best for me? I guess not, considering the one roll I enjoy causes my stomach to go nuts (#whitty). Would I be ungrateful for leaving the establishment without partaking? Yes, I would be. I'd feel awful if a guest came over to my house and didn't even have their sandals off before remembering they need to leave something in their car. Next thing I know, I realize that they needed to leave quickly in their car and I'm putting hummus I made for them into Tupperware that I lost the lid for, so I'm putting the bowl into the Safeway bag I just got and spinning it shut. Just concocting the analogy is making me a tad melancholy; The vision of hummus that no matter how long it's refrigerated, it will dry out. I didn't know a whole clove of garlic would be too much, but that's why metaphors are useful; They can teach you errors before they are made. So, save yourself and save the party. Cut the clove in half.

But, we're talking about sushi. Sushi that questions my own proclivities. I watch my companion eat. His stack of plates by the end of our meal is as tall as the diameter of a circle whose circumference is fifty pennies. I don't ask him all the questions I should have. We talked about silly things like the choices that God presents us, art to be made, and what makes society such a fascinating organism. What I should have been asking follows: Are you satisfied after all that? Don't you wish you didn't eat some of that? While it looked plain, shouldn't I have had that roll with the egg on the outside and the tuna inside? Your stack has so many colors; Isn't that confusing for you to keep track? Are you willing to pay for all of that?

I can't even keep track of my sushi. After all the options passed by me, some more than twice, my plate count comes to the number of dimes in the discount I receive for picking green rimmed dishes. The choices I make leave me with a blue pile. I settle my check and the hostess asks us to please come again.

What can I say: I'm not one to waste of clove of garlic.

Don't Read This

Rabbit, Peacock, and The Wall In Between

EXT. Park

A shakespearean play in the park. As professional as PAUL can make it.

PAUL

Ladies and Gentleman! This is the story of Rabbit, Peacock, and the Wall In Between. In a wood much like this, there was a wall built by fear of strong stone. A king walked a top it and for years, hoping to destroy it, but it was not his wall, so he let it stand. But as he's paced it, the mortar between the rock crumbled ever so little, revealing a small hole, just large enough for a peek. With this established, we meet our antagonists.

ALISON

(Enters with bunny ears)

I am a Rabbit of this side of the Wall. / I'm tired of the others as they choose to call / me all the names that make me mad and make me blush. / They mocked my ears, I ran away in a rush. / I've listened. my ears perked up, they've been. / But the only sound is the king and the wind. / I wonder what on earth could be over there...

PAUL

(Enters with Peacock tail)

Why are the others even shaken and scared? / We are of that side, It's this much that we know / The king wants the wall to tumble down also. / But we say no, for foxes will eat us up / We peacocks are afraid of even a pup! / But, I see a hole in the wall of stone... /

ALISON

I'm scared, but i'm more so that i'll be alone... / I see someone! Hello! I believe that's a beak.

PAUL

Is this a fox? To whom do I speak?

ALISON

I'm a rabbit of this side of the wall.

PAUL

Step back so I can see you, fur coat and all. / Ah ha! You are a fox, I can see your ears!

ALISON

They mock my ears too, it's just as I fear. / Who is it on that side that makes fun of me? / I'll look through the hole in the wall, I must see.

PAUL

The fox's eye seeks for what food it can find! / I mustn't be eaten! How else can I hide? / I'll duck my head down, but he can still see my tail...

ALISON

Oh my wall! All I see are great green scales! / It can't be, but there once was a time I heard / of creatures called "dragons" that fly like a bird! / You can claim a life with a breath full of flame.

PAUL

That's right! I am a dragon. That is my name. / Go far from this wall, fox, or I.ll eat your heart! / That should do the trick to keep us both apart.

ALISON

I'm a rabbit and not, as you say, "a fox" / but I'll depart, dragon, from the wall of rocks.

PAUL

Well, good! Leave or, on you, misfortune befall!

King

Stop! You fools! Why must there be a wall at all? / I am the king and I beg of you, please / May I bring this awful wall down to its' knees?

ALISON

No, thanks. I don't want to upset the dragon

PAUL

And foxes hate us all, every single one!

KING

You are all blind yet believe what you perceive. / Rabbit, I see you alone. For that, I grieve. / The others mock your ears and I don't know why / But there are no dragons and they cannot fly! / They're not scales, but tail feathers. They're Peacock's / and Peacock, listen... Rabbit is not a fox!

PAUL

Why should I believe you, king up high on the wall?

KING

'cause I'm up high! Have you seen a fox at all?

PAUL

Well, no. But I know because...

KING

that's what I thought / I don't blame you. You're doing as you were taught. / The enemy will chew you up into bits / but don't be so scared to run off poor rabbits. / I promise you both will be the best of friends / If once and for all you let the wall's reign end.

PAUL

I am scared, but I trust you if you insist

ALISON

If Peacock's nice, may it no longer exist. / Hello! It's a pleasure to actually meet.

PAUL

What are the odds I'll be something you will eat?

ALISON

None, silly! All I eat are carrots and leaves!

PAUL

In that case, Hi! Your coat looks soft as fleece!

ALISON

Thank you! That is very nice of you to say. / I know of a fun game, would you like to play? / We chase around trees, it's called "Spin, Zip, and Trip".

PAUL

I love to Zip! What a start to our friendship!

KING

I'm happy they see each other true. But now... / I must see about a gazelle and a cow.

Curtain Call and if people see the play in the park, hopefully they applaud. If not, PAUL and ALISON are still pleased to present it.

Burning - A Monologue

I love my husband, I'm sure of it. I've never really doubted that even during his road trip. What did he call it? He said he was... "Breathing". I think that's what it was. It sounded like that... Anyway, he's back and he's good. Things are good. We only shout at bad drivers and football games now. But the longer I've been with him, there's been this... I don't know, but it's in me that until lately I couldn't quantify, and weirdly I would say I felt this when we first met, but now it has a new meaning. Anyway, so this isn't why I married him, but it helped a lot the way he kissed me. I thought it told me the man he'd be. He'd grab the back of my neck, like this, and he'd pull me in. But it wasn't forced. He just supported me. 'Cause as wonderful as I thought him and as beautiful as I felt standing on the pier next to him, insecurity would make its way in my mind because there was no way I was as wonderful as he thought me or that he felt handsome with me next to him. This would flicker as he kissed me and I hated it. I still hate the feeling. But I'd feel that for only that second until I felt his hand on the back of my neck pulling me in and keeping me there as I stuttered away, because it felt like he wanted me there or like he wanted me to think he wanted me there. That for some reason I made him feel handsome and my doubt would leave. And this doubt came back over and over obviously, but his hand would destroy it everytime. And every time it went away, it made this burning. That's the word, burning. This burning in me I couldn't describe until recently, which is what I meant to tell you earlier. Sorry, I got sidetracked. Anyway, do you have a match? Well, next time you do, put a match to the box. Press it against the wall of it as though you're going to light it. That's it. Don't light the match, just keep pressure on the match against the starter. You'll see what I mean and the burning is far more intense then the flame will be or could make. So, it's no wonder, to me at least, why I said, "Yes," when he proposed during those months we were together. I told him how I loved his kisses on a date a couple years before his "breathing" escape or whatever and that's when he told me he learned that "trick" from "Men's Health Magazine." He said "trick." I know he was trying to be cute and I dropped my cigarette as I laughed for him. It landed on my foot. I haven't worn open toed shoes since then. Huh.

My Apologies

I haven't written many things lately and I apologize. I have quite a bit of stageplays since i spoke last, but they're not here. maybe in the future, but for now.. nope. I'll try and put out a poem in the near future.

A Bedtime Story

Well... There once was a boy: half man, half god. He lived in a cottage in the middle of the woods. His father lived in the caves that twisted within the mountains that edged the forest. His father loved him very much and couldn't bear to have his son never see the sun, so he sent him away into the woods. His father kept the mountain at peace, and he wished for his son to water the grass and feed the deer that lived among him.
Once the boy asked his father, a god, who his mother was, and the god responded, "she was a woman, she was beautiful, and her heart was greater than any god's.. but she died because the price of a great hear is a mortal life." The boy loved his father, so he did as his father asked and sustained the animals and vegetation of the woods. He did this daily, and once, he came across a stone...
It was a girl of stone. The stone was beautiful like he imagined his mother, and it leaned against a tree, as though the tree was protecting her from something. The boy asked the trees who the stone was and they replied, "We never learned her name. But something sad happened to her, so she turned into stone."
"How can I free her?" the boy asked.
"That is a question for the deer."
So, the boy walked through the forest and asked a fawn, for children were the last that knew of ancient magic. "How can I free the stone?"
The fawn stated as a matter of fact, "A demigod such as you can not. You must find a great heart."
"Where may I find a great heart?"
The fawn looked to the mountain. His father knew where to find such a heart. The fawn cautioned him, "But, beware of the answer you may find."
The boy crawled through he caves and found his father waiting. "You are here about the stone, aren't you?"
"Yes, Father. How can I free her?"
"The great heart you seek is within you. You must give it to her... Your mother was a river. A glorious river, and I too wished to free her. I myself was not fully man or fully god, and my father told me what I will tell you. You can free her, but you must give her your only connection to humanity... You will be without blood and eternal, and your heart will be hers. The choice is yours whether she will see you, but she will love you as long as she lives, but think of this... She will be a fraction of your time and you will miss her."
_________________

The ending is only yours to know.