Taps

I read through a book called The Quarter Life Crisis once. Helped with some issues I was havin'. Was all 'bout how you gotta find a balance with bein' young and gettin' older. Gotta be able to enjoy life while realizin' it ain't all roses and it ain't all roses for anybody.

Somewhere in that book it asks what's the next undiscussed crisis for people of a certain age. The answer the authors came up with was sumthin' of a three-quarter life crisis. The crisis of watchin' your lifelong friends die and waitin' around to die yourself.

Hell of a thing, losin' friends.

Life hurts so much a lot of the time 'cause it feels like that's all you're doin' is losin'. But you always gotta know that you had sumthin' to lose. That doesn't make it any easier to let things go, I know, but it's sumthin'.

All the times you had, good and bad. All the love, all the memories, it all sticks around. Appreciate that when you can. Let yourself hurt when you can't.

People always wanna think they can't feel. That it's weak to be able to be hurt. It's not. It's human. We ain't stone. We bleed, we cry, we laugh. Let it out. Let the world know you loved somebody. Let them all know the person who died was a person worth bein' missed. Tell those that never met him that they missed out on meetin' the greatest person that ever lived

The greeks used to take about a week to mourn a person. The whole town would get involved and drink and play games and mourn in his honor. Now we take half a day off of work to go and have to leave again. That's not what a friend deserves.

When my friends die, it'll hurt like hell. When my brothers die, it'll break my heart. When my dad dies, it'll break me. They all deserve my pain when they go. Like a tribute of misery.

Eventually, it gets better. From time to time it may even feel as fresh as the day you lost them. But it always gets better. Easier to deal with. Don't expect it to heal nice and clean like a papercut. If they were important it's more like a jagged stab wound that heals better than you thought it would.

We could all go at any minute. No one is promised a long life and even the long ones still end. No fear to be had in that, just truth. Make the most of the time you got.

The Original Person

Nobody pays for creativity. Nobody pays you to be you. They pay you to be you but with a name tag and a positive attitude people will like and maybe a stupid outfit.

But Nobody pays you. Nobody is the one signin' your check.

Originality comes from bein' you and not bein' sorry about it. It's not always neat and clean. It's not always gonna be nice but if you're like me and you wanna do sumthin' creative the best thing you can do is be yourself.

People put on name tags and wear "smocks", otherwise known as ugly vests made out of shit material nobody actually wears, and surrender to bein' nobody. Nobody works for a lot of people. And there's nuthin' wrong with doin' that to pay the bills.

But if you wanna be happy you gotta be you. Make the music you wanna make, tell the stories you wanna tell, sing the songs you wanna sing. Don't let anybody tell you any different.

An original person is gonna have to work long and hard to get his way. Authors look decades before they get published. Bands tour and perform for just as long before they get signed. Artists make enough art to fill galleries before anyone appreciates a single piece. A few get lucky. Others are still tryin'.

But when you're an original person it often feels like you're meant to do sumthin' and even if you barely have the time to do it, even if it seems like a waste, even if people say you suck at it, you just keep gettin' up and doin' it.

You have to. You need to. Whether Nobody Pays you or not. You do it.

16 and Stupid

Read an article today and it made me a lil sad. Somewhere in Spain a 10 year old girl gave birth. She wasn't raped or molested, that was my first instinct. Nope, lil girl's got herself a 13 year old man. Boy got her pregnant, she had the baby, and now granny is gonna have to take care of 'em all. Accordin' to one article, Granny says that's not even an odd occurrence in those parts.



As many of you know, I lived with a woman who had two kids for a year or so. Worst year of my life. You know why, no time to explain now. But I took care of those kids, I went broke, I busted my ass to provide for 'em as if they were my own. I was 22 and workin' full time. That was a bitch to do day in and day out. Goin' hungry so they could eat. Watchin' out for them every second. But as a parent it's what you do.



Kids as young as that girl ain't got any idea. They haven't even had to deal with pimples yet. They ain't worked a day in their life. No diplomas, no useful advice of any kind, can't even drive. They got no business tryin' to make a baby let alone havin' one.



Kids are stupid. They never learn. Most adults, not all but most, you can tell 'em not to do a thing because it's bad for 'em and they listen. Kids won't learn not to put their pecker into an electrical socket until they do it.



I wish I could give a speech that teenagers would listen to about all the dumb shit they're goin' through that they think no one gets and the mistakes they could avoid. I know they won't listen but I wanna tell 'em anyway.



Kids deserve to hear the truth. That the real world, the world after high school, is a bitch and nobody's gonna push you for much of anything. Doesn't matter if you're ready or if you ain't got the money or how sad your story is, the world ain't gonna stop for you. So that means you gotta get your shit together and show up on time (not that I ever really do) and be responsible. You gotta plan your budget out. You gotta be thinkin' ten steps ahead of life. Gotta account for all the lil things that are gonna go wrong. Life doesn't wait for you to have money for the road trip and a flat tire, that tire's gonna bust when you have half the money you need for it. Gotta hustle and figure out how you can get that extra cash asap.



Speakin' of cash, are you savin' your money from flippin' burgers or sweepin' floors? I wasn't at 16. Should be thinkin' of retirement the day you start workin'. Put away twenty bucks a week. that's 'bout a grand a year. Two grand by the time you're 18. By the time you're 65 you got a whoppin' 50 grand plus interest, if you're lucky. That gonna last you 30 years of retirement? Hell no. Gotta save, earn interest, invest wisely. You're bratty kids are gonna be too dumb and lazy and resentful of you to take care of you. If you're lucky you'll have at least one kid you can be a burden to.

The world is far from perfect. It all but sucks. Your dreams will likely be crushed and broken. You will have regrets by the time you're fifty. All we can do is roll with the punches, there will be punches, and keep movin' forward. If you want to be successful you have to bust your ass and push yourself to your limits. And even then all you might do is go over the edge.

Life gives you no promises, but it's full of promise. They'll tell you in school that you can be anything you wanna be. That's true. But you'll have to give it everything you got and then some. It's not instant. It takes patience, courage, and endurance. It takes hard work.

I think they don't emphasize that part enough.

No Bitch, No Moan

I've let you guys down lately. I am often political here. I'm all about expressin' my own opinion. I believe everyone should be aware of what's really goin' on in the world. Not just on Facebook or in class or at work. People have an obligation to go and figure out what's goin' on politically.



It's the obligation of an adult and anybody worth their salt to know and understand what's goin' on politically. It's easy to bitch and moan about all the things that are wrong in the world but it takes some effort to find out what the policies are and who's side you should be on to change anything.



I haven't provided you guys with any info on what's goin' on politically lately. I feel like I let you down. I shoulda wrote sumthin' about who said what and what policies they stand behind. I been busy with the new job and Costa Rica. But by the end of the night Texas could have a whole new governor. But I haven't mentioned a word on it.



I'm hopin' for Bill White. Which is why I'm stoppin' here to go voice my opinion if I still can.



You can choose who you want. Just say some damn thing when you get the chance. If you don't care now, you'll care when the changes start screwin' you. Then you can bitch and moan til the next election.

More in Heaven and Earth II

I wanted to write about Halloween for you. Give you guys some kind of spooky story or sumthin' to make you guys question whether or not the things that go bump in the night are just the moans and groans of a house or if there really might be sumthin' lurkin' in the dark waitin' to grab you and suck you into that black void. Halloween is the appropriate time for such things.

I got nuthin.

Best I had to scare you with was a story about strange lights in the middle of the night witnessed by myself and my girlfriend. Red would've seen it had she not been passed out next to us. I'll tell you just to tell you but I feel it's not particularly worthy of you so I'll see if I can tell you sumthin' else of interest after.

One night, after we came to my girlfriend's house after a party or bar or sumthin' to that effect we went to lay down. She claims the place is haunted. I never really saw anything happen in there. Though it is the kinda place you get an eerie feelin' in the middle of the night about. Her sister had recently moved out of the room we all decided to stay in so all there was to sleep on were two mattresses side by side on the floor. Red had had a bit to drink and it was late anyway so she passed right out. June and I stayed up and talked for a while.

Just as we began to doze off we were reawakened by these strange blue lights. They came from nowhere. I checked our cellphones thinkin' maybe we got a call or the light from them was reflectin' off of sumthin' to create the lights. Mine was off and hers wasn't lit up. I looked to the window to see if light was comin' in from the street or some other source, no such luck. Not even any kind of reflective surface like a mirror left in the room to blame the lights on. My girlfriend was panicked. I wasn't doin' much better. I never left the mattress, worried I might somehow agitate the lights. I merely scanned the room for an answer. My girlfriend was frightened and lookin' for an answer. I told her not to worry, that it had to be an illusion. There had to be some reasonable explanation that I wasn't seein'. I never did find one and after what felt like ages the lights went away.

There may be a reasonable explanation for weird blue lights hovering above us and as bright as a cellphone in a dark room but I don't know it. My girlfriend went to sleep and so did I. We were fine the next mornin'. But creeped out more than I had been in a long while.

A better story my brother told me a while back was concernin' to members of his church. A man and his wife. They had had a discussion with a friend or heard in a sermon that there is a way to call a spirit to your home. You ask to know who the spirit is and it has to tell you. Some rule or guideline somewhere. I'm not positive of the details of exactly how one conjures a spirit/demon/devil to you home. Unless you call me and tell me there's gonna be beer.

Well the wife and the husband were in separate rooms, watchin' separate T.V.'s, and watchin' separate shows. The wife is bored so she calls out to the anything that's listenin' usin' a spiritual dog whistle of sorts. Well there's a small rumble through the house and the lights flicker a bit. The husband hears a knock at the front door near where he is and his hair begins to stand on end. He takes a peak through the door's spyglass and sees no one, so he's suspicious.

"Who's there?", the husband asks.

A gravely voice answers, "Let me in."

"Uh, no."

The voice with no body continues, "Someone's calling for me."

"Honey,..." The husband rushes to the back room where his wife is. He asks her if she did anything. She says no. "Are you sure?"

"I didn't do anything. Why?", the wife asks.

"'Cause some...thing is at the door."

"Oh.." She explains the foolish thing she did that she didn't think would work. Eventually, they called their Representative of Heaven or whatever you call a head of a Pentecostal church. He got into contact with some folks that cleanse houses of malicious spirits. The only thing that saved the couple, accordin' to those guys, is that the house had been cleansed and sealed through some sort of prayer when they moved in. Had there been a weak spot the two would've been in trouble.

The blue lights thing happened to me. I'll verify that I don't know what it was other than scary. The couple, I don't know 'em, my brother does, and he told me this story. He believed it. Good enough for me to think sumthin' odd happened to those people. Watch your asses boys and girls, maybe a mysterious light or voice or shadowy figure is waitin' for you.

Cowboy

Whatever happened to the cowboys? The guys that did hard work and were proud of it? The guys that were rough and couldn't be changed? The guys that were hairy and ugly and dirty 'cause that's what a man is?

I see a buncha guys in this world and damn if they ain't the prettiest buncha girls I ever seen. I know guys that shave their chest, wax their eyebrows, trim the hair on their legs, and complain about razor bumps in places I didn't wanna know nuthin' about. Yet they still have the hierarchy between 'em as far as who's manliest and who's the toughest. Just a buncha girls.

I'm sorry if you like your men well groomed and prissy. I won't ever be that. I get regular haircuts and take regular baths, you know? I'm no slob but damn, what happened to the boys that grew up wantin' to be cowboys? Somewhere along the way they started gettin' pedicures and manicures. There's always been those pretty boy types I suppose. And of course there are those gay guys that keep themselves well groomed, some might call that girly. It seems to me more and more that a man, a real meat eatin', beer drinkin', cigar smokin', tire changin', door openin' Man is gettin' harder and harder to find.

Instead, you got theses spray-tanned, muscleheads that spend more time workin' on their looks than workin'. And the guys that never did much more than coast through life on daddy's money. How 'bout diggin' a ditch or learnin' a trade?

I've been workin' since I was 12. Dad took me out on jobs and I had to earn my keep same as anybody else. I learned to install faucets and commodes. I dug trenches for septic tanks. I spent my summers in Texas attics changin' out water heaters.

Dad taught me how to change the brakes on my first car along with the oil and tires. I learned how to be responsible with it. I've been given a lot of great information on bein' a man from the best man I know. It's where a boy should learn that stuff.

Maybe my dad was a lot better than most dads. He was never one to really go in for trends or worry about much more than payin' bills and bein' where he was needed. Bein' pretty or super fit didn't really come up on his radar. (Is it black? Does it fit? Not frilly? I'll wear it.)

There aren't many real men left and it seems they're dyin' fast. Society wants you to be in touch with your feelin's and sensitive and proper and pretty. Look, if my dad can be a good man, if he can pay his bills, be there for me, be a good dad without ever seemin' less than a man I don't see why I can't.

I'm just like him in so many ways. I know we've got our differences and some are more manly and others are are prolly more effeminate. I am slower to be angry than he is. To some this has been seen as a fear of fightin'. Sometimes I wonder if it is but I've been in a few scuffles. I know I can handle myself. But I won't just clobber a bum for bein' a bum.



Many times though I just find myself in situations where I'm thinkin' what the hell am I doin'? Watchin' Jersey Shore on a Thursday night? Teen Mom on Tuesday? Goin' to take pictures with a bunny in a pumpkin' patch with my girlfriend? I wanna say fuck all that bullshit.

That's not what a man does. I don't give a damn about those shows or bein' cute. But it's what you do when you got a woman. It's what you do when you gotta family.

Dad drove us to school. He gave us advice. He played with us. He is easily offended. He damn near cried when Mom dumped his chicken pot pies on a plate for him. (They're properly served in those lil tin things they come in, you know?) He has mommy issues. But he also never changed diapers. He drank more beer than was healthy for him. He smoked more cigarettes than he should've. He got into fights with people and later on thought, "Oh, maybe they were right. Oh well. Shoulda been more polite about it." He was always gruff and tough as nails. He stood his ground and no one could ever tell him he was a sissy or what to do or that he couldn't do anything he wanted to do.

And maybe those few things are all it takes to be that cowboy I always wanted to be. I can watch some dumb shows or enjoy the company of an adorable rabbit. I can be nice to my girl. I can play with lil kids. I can do whatever the hell I please I just gotta walk with my head held high and not take shit off no fools.

Garner

Pressed for time, nuthin witty to say, hope you enjoy the story.




David listened to his stomach growl as he wandered down a dirt road just outside of a small town called Garner, Iowa. He had hoped to find a conveniently free meal but found himself in trouble instead. Small towns like Garner are usually filled with wholesome people with wholesome values. Thus the sixteen-year-old thief was ushered out of the town.


“All I wanted was a little food. Jeez, you’d have thought I was tryin’ to rob a bank or somethin’. Maybe I’ll head south a ways where people are a bit more hospitable.” David grumbled to himself. He had been on his own for close to a year now. He left his father’s dirt farm in the hopes of making a better life for himself.


The young Tennessean, David Brown, grew up on his father’s farm which would have been well enough for most any young man had it not been for the drought. A lot of the countryside had experienced the same sort of phenomenon. David’s father insisted on staying in Tennessee but David felt he had to choose between staying home and starving or seeing the country and starving. So he opted to see the great nation he lived in and all of the poverty it could hold in it.
1936 isn’t the best time to see the nation in all her glory but with hope in his heart David set out on his own. He tried to find work for himself doing most anything he could but the depression was on and anyone that had a job was doing their best to keep it and anyone that didn’t have work was trying to find it. Eventually he swallowed his pride to be able to swallow something edible. David hated the idea of stealing especially since he was raised as a good proper Christian by his mother but it was that or starve.


“Garner, Iowa and its residents don’t enjoy the company of thieves.” said the rough old officer as he dragged the young man to the edge of the town. “I don’t want to see you in this town again, son. We’ve got honest hardworking folks that live here and we don’t need sinners like you.”
David picked himself up from the ground and dusted himself off and without a word to the well-fed man with the pistol walked away. He kept walking until he came across an intersection with a decent shade tree and nice pond that may hopefully contain some tasty fish.


The shade was cast by a black walnut tree that had stood its ground here for more than a century. David hoped to eat some of its offerings but came to find the walnuts had already matured. As he had learned from his parents, black walnut trees hand out a nut that when fully developed has an unpleasant taste and is more trouble than it’s worth to get to through a hard shell. David still had a piece of string with a hook that he could easily catch himself dinner with provided there were fish to be caught.


David walked around the tree to get closer to the pond and discovered that he was not alone. Sitting in a swing that hung from the tree was a young woman. David and the lady had startled each other. David laughed at himself, “Oh--Hello ma’am.”


“Hello.” The blonde-haired blue-eyed woman answered coyly. David could see she had been crying. She used her kerchief to dry her tears.


“Excuse me miss but is everything alright?” David asked as he unraveled his fishing line.

“Yes. Everything is just fine, thank you.” She was obviously lying.

David asked again, “Are you sure ma’am? I’m no doctor or nothin’ but it looks to me your eyes are leaking or you seem to be upset over somethin’. If you don’t want to talk about it that’s fine but I’m gonna be here a while so I’ll just keep askin’. My momma taught me we should care about every livin’ creature on God’s green earth especially people. I can see you got some problems and if you’ll let me I’d be more than happy to lend an ear.” The woman sat quietly.

“Okay. My name is David in case you care to address me.”

David walked over to the woman and offered his hand. “I’m Lorna.” She took his hand and shook it.

“Pleased to meet you miss Lorna. Now what is it that has you all worked up?” The young man casts his line into the pond.

“Well Mr. David it just happens that I found out I was to be expecting a baby soon.” Lorna begins to swing herself lightly.

“Well that’s good news congratulations!” He smiles at her.

“Oh no it’s not especially for me.” She explains. “I am neither wed nor expecting to be. All of Garner would laugh at me and call me a whore if they knew. I can’t have this baby.”

“What about the baby’s pa? Where is he?” David took a seat on the grass.

Lorna almost burst into tears. “He-he was beaten to death not more than a week ago.”

“Beaten to death?” David asked with disbelief.

“Yes. He was accused of taking Mr. Henry’s horse. So Mr. Henry’s sons dragged him out of his bed in the middle of the night and beat him with shovels in a cornfield where he was found dead the next day. He didn’t even take the nag! Those Henry boys just wanted an excuse to hurt an innocent black man.” Lorna reveals.

“The father of your baby is a black man? If your pa is anything like mine then he won’t like that at all.” David recasts his line.

Lorna agrees. “My daddy just doesn’t understand that Paul was a good, good man. He was gentle and caring. He was a hard worker and always treated me kindly. I treated him the same way and one day we realized we had fallen in love. It’s not common especially around these parts but I couldn’t help how I felt about him. I’ve lost everything. I just want to leave this place and never come back. I want to just roam and see the country and find a perfect place for me in it.”
David thinks before responding. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. I’ve been wandering around for the better part of a year now and I know one thing for sure: This is no life for an expecting mother. I’m having a hard time trying to take care of myself there’s no way I could handle a baby and this. I sleep in fields, I have to steal my food, and people can be just plain uncharitable sometimes. Don’t you think you could just go and talk to your dad and explain how all of this happened? He’s got to be a reasonable man. He doesn’t want you to live on the street.”
David walks over to Lorna to comfort her but she reaches into her handbag and pulls out a pistol. “Whoa! Easy there Lorna there’s no call for that. You’ll just get someone hurt.”

“My daddy has already heard all about his grandchild and has decided that he doesn’t want anything to do with my baby. He doesn’t want anything to do with harlot daughter either.” Lorna doesn’t want to listen. She knows the town she grew up in would never let her live in peace with her baby. She loved Paul more than she ever thought possible. She’s desperate to leave her small town and head to someplace better. “I just want to go somewhere that I can live without someone talking behind my back about the things I’ve done. I want to be in a place that I can be happy with my baby. I want to be somewhere perfect.”

David holds his hands up in plain sight for fear of the pistol. “Now I can’t think of but one place like that and it ain’t here on this world. As long as you have neighbors they’ll talk about you and sometimes it’ll be bad but that’s just people. Everyone wants something better for themselves but not everyone gets it and that makes people bitter. Bitter people try to bring everyone around them down to build themselves up.”

“As long as you’re unmarried and have a mixed baby your neighbors are gonna talk. They’re gonna snicker and laugh but to Hell with them. If you don’t regret what you done then why should you worry on what other folks are sayin’?” Lorna puts the gun down.

“Come on, now I can walk you back to that town and I’ll go with you to talk to your pa and we can talk to him all about the Henry boys and Paul and he’ll have to get used to the idea of his grandbaby because like it or not that little fella’s on his way.” David rolls up his fishing line still listening to his stomach rumbling. “Maybe you could even get me an invitation to supper.”

Lorna chuckles half-heartedly. “You know David you are a nice young man. Despite living like you do and the way people have not shown you kindness you still remain hopeful. I hope you find whatever you’re looking for.”

“Thanks, Miss Lorna. Now come on so we can sort all of this out.” David offers his hand to her and she accepts his help to her feet. He starts to walk in front of her and she knocks him over the head with the revolver she had in her handbag.

“I came out here to join Paul, David. I was ready to when you walked up. Thanks for trying but I don’t want to live in a place where people aren’t good to each other. My baby and I can find that perfect place. This gun will get us there as fast as possible.” Lorna tucks the gun under her chin and squeezes the trigger. She falls lifeless to the ground.