I had a dream this morning, the details are vague. I’ll try to recollect bits and pieces as I write this.
My friends and I were walking through a grocery store. I don’t think we were there for any specific reason, just three travellers passing-by towards an unknown location. I can only assume it was a route we took for the sake of time, to get to point A to point B faster. I’m not sure what led up to the following event, or the irrational thinking that went through my subconscious that disguised itself as my friends, but it all happen so fast.
Friend A and B were arguing over something, I don’t know. It resulted in friend B throwing a tomato at friend A. Friend A moved out of the way, and the tomato traveled its way towards me crash landing on my face. I retorted, as any sane man would, by throwing a bottle of vegetable oil. Friend B weaved out of the way, and the bottle erupted on an old lady that was shopping for veggies. She screamed. Security came. We ran.
We unanimously split into different directions, each taking our own separate aisle, but I felt like the slowest of the three. I ran as fast as my mind and body would let me. Nonetheless, I felt the hand of the law reach out and touch the hair on the back of my neck. With whatever energy I could muster from within, I picked up my speed for the sake of living. I franticly tried looking for an exit, bumping into pedestrians and knocking over products. The placed seemed lager than it did at the start, as if it kept expanding the closer I got to an exit; what felt like a small grocery store, turned in a Walmart Supercenter, into a mall. Continue reading
I entered stage right. Dead silence echoed through the room followed by the low ruckus of my footsteps that filled the air of the nearly empty auditorium, as I walked towards the center of the stage. I looked out at the coward. The seats were mainly occupied of familiar faces. Faces that displayed woe. All eyes on me, I know the audience is dying to hear what I have to say. I look at the coffin behind me, and the man that lies inside it. I raised my wine glass as I clear my throat in a desperate act to extend time.
“What can I say that hasn’t already been said?” I said.
What can I say?
“Loved by many and hated by few,” this, of course, was half true.
Hated by few and loved by fewer.
Someone in the audience whimpered. I felt the pressure one gets, not from preforming a public speech, from having to debate about speaking kindly about one or being honest.
“You know, I met Tony back in college. He had just gotten out of a relationship and his mother just died,” I laughed to loosen the tension then took a sip of my drink.
“Some year. But you know, I think that’s when he found his true self. Ha. It’s funny, I still remember him approaching me one day and saying ‘I don’t care anymore. I’m fucking done. I can’t do anything right.’ And I said, ‘Tony, if at first you don’t succeed try and try again.’ Sure, he killed himself but the most important part is he stuck through it.” Continue reading
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: Eat, Drink, and Be Merry…
I tasted the beer before my lips gazed the rim of the glass. The taste was both refreshing and overwhelming, like eating a spoon full of chocolate ice cream, I couldn’t drink more than a sip of a sip before putting down the glass. The waves of the impact in the beer clashed against the glassed barrier creating a tidal wave within that pored over the pint sized glass cup. “Hey!” a familiar voice shouted, “That’s good beer you’re wasting. Savor it it will be your last.” I look up at my yelling adviser. I was he and he was I with a name tag that read Hello My Name Is: Furious.
“Leave him alone I’m sure he didn’t mean to spill it,” said another with the same curly hair as me accept his name tag read Forgiving.
“That is exactly the point! I don’t want to waste our reaming beverage because this guy couldn’t hold his beer!”
“Yeah maybe you’re right. This is our last meal.” Continue reading
I think I’m broken and I don’t know what to do.
I don’t know how to explain but I can’t think straight enough to properly write.
I don’t know why I’m telling you this but it feels good to let it all out.
I go through these weird phases through my day where all I could think about is our next conversation; our semi-philosophical talks about creativity endeavors, and our adolescent minds trying to find meaning in small things.
I would start to write a sentence and it would always start with a cold night; the type of night we decided to pullover and take pictures, the type of night that yearns for wanted company. I fiddle with words to recapture a scene. A close-up of my warm hopeless-romantic palms kissing your freezing passionate hands as you adjust the aperture on the display screen. There is an image that appears in my head that takes me back to that specific moment. No, not the one you captured with the DSLR camera – Although, that was great too – But the one I captured with the distorted camera in my mind. I struggle to find the words to perfectly illustrate the fluorescent moonlight that reflected off the stunted stream of water that was heading towards somewhere greater, and how it illuminated the sclera in you eyes. A shot captured through a tainted lens.
I think I’m broken and I don’t know what to do other than write cliché imagery about you.
A friend asked me to write a brief story for a tabletop game he was developing. There was no backstory for the game, but one thing was clear about the story. It had to have wizards.
Stop me if you heard this one before.
Four wizards walk into a bar.
One of them shouts, “Bartender! Serve me a cold one. I just tackled the largest giant in the world.”
“Cute,” says one of the wizards, “I’ve ended a war with my staff alone.”
Another wizard joins the fray, “Ha! None of you lived until you journey into the void and see-“
“Lived?” Interrupted the final wizard, “I’ve stared down death himself and spat in his face, before walking away.”
The four wizards argued through the day about who was the best, until finally the innkeeper rose and announced, “Enough! We shall settle this like the sorcerers you are. I shall reward the wizard, who impresses me the most with their tricks and wits, with my finest ale. On the house.” And so the four wizards dueled through the rest of the night until there was only one standing.
Sometimes I lie in bed and wonder what my last moments would be like. Is it how the movies depict it? You know, you get a flash of lucidity and you watch your entire life in half a second, as you exhale your final breath. If that’s true then I would like to think, as I go, the last thing I see is a montage of all the good things I’ve done, and the impact I’ve had on people’s life. Even if it was little, I like to think I contributed to the world.
I imagine all my friends and family around my deathbed, but no one is crying cause there is no regret or “I should’ve” moments. The heart rate monitor is turned off, so no one obsesses over it. Everyone takes turns saying a few words, talking about all the good moments we had, the conversation would always begin with “remember that time Jesse…” as I lay asleep motionless on the hospital bed, chuckling with them in my head. Everyone stays till the end, until the doctors come in and take me, then everyone goes to iHop because that would be the only restaurant open. More importantly no one mourns over my death, only because they know I wouldn’t want to be a burden. Of course, this is all imaginative I can’t really say how things would actually go. But if my life were a movie or novel then that’s how I would do the ending.
I never ask myself if I’ll be miss when I’m gone, because that is a stupid question. Of course someone will notice like when a boy losses his mom, when a company losses a worker, or when the planet losses a tree. I believe everyone has his or her place in the world and when that place is unoccupied someone notices.
I tried killing myself today.
First I attempted to cut my wrist but it didn’t work, due to the fact that a butter knife isn’t that great of an item to cut things with. I would have used a sharper object, if I had any sharper objects in my household. You see, I rarely cook anything – too much work and not enough time – so I have no culinary knives or tools you would use to cut things. I just get take out all the time. I have the money for it. Money is all I have really. If you were to look at all the receipts I have stored in the glove department of my car, you’ll get a good indication of my diet: 25 piece boneless wings, 4 double cheese burgers, a family order of orange chicken with rice, 3 large pizzas, etc. despite all the food I order, my body weight doesn’t match my diet. One would think I was an overweight abomination. I’m not fit but I’m not skinny either. I’m average considering my height and all. I have a tendency of ordering more than I can eat. I usually take two bites and I’m full. I do this because I don’t want the cashier to think I’m some lonely guy who eats alone in his house, which I am. I know I’m spending more than I have to, but its okay cause money is all I have.