binge

i've been on a binge lately. overdosing on story. i've found myself
empty and without inspiration, one of those occasional dry spells all
artists, writers, musicians, creative types wander into from time to
time. i'm sure you've noticed it in the content here. and the ideas
are starting to trickle and flow again, so hopefully there will be the
usual purge.

unfortunately, i'm also sick. i don't have time for it.

i am leaving here in about a half hour and heading home where i plan
to crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head and get unconscious
for as long as i can.

i'll see you when i see you.

ghost

what do you want?

you've got the name right, but i'm not the man you're looking for.

 

ghost

for you

when you die
many people who
never knew you will
send flowers because
they thought they did.

the orchids
are from me.

ghost

first strike

"we could have been friends, but nope. now you're fat."-b.h.

"what do we draw?"-m.w.
"the set up on the table in front of you."-ghost
"oh, i was going to draw a picture of me and carry underwood getting
facials."-m.w.

"tip's written a few books. one of them is really cool. have you seen
cowboys and aliens? it's like that, only minus the aliens, and plus
ninjas."-j.h.

"do you think black people get offended by black markers?"-j.m.
"why would they?"-s.l.
"because it says negro underneath black."-j.m.

"what's the next project?"-k.a.
"a self portrait."-ghost
"of what?"-k.a.
"of yourself. a portrait of self."-ghost

"tip, i hate you. you ruined my day again."-m.b.

"your cookies got red dye all over my jacket. yeah, screw you and your
cookies."-e.k.

"i'm about to stab you in the fake boob."-j.h.

"you smell like coke. i love the smell of coke."-huggy bear
"the drink or the drug? because if you smell too much coke, that's an
addiction ladies and gentlemen."-ghost
"tip, you are the strangest little man."-e.k.

ghost

armor

back when i couldn't imagine a future for me, i asked this question again and again and railed at the sky because it seemed there was no answer. and perhaps i was a little afraid of the answer, though at the time i couldn't really put that into words.

"is there hope for me?"

i didn't have the courage to hear the answer, because what if the answer had been no?

i chose instead to hope on hope. and i climbed mountains and i endured physical and psychic pain like nothing i had ever known. i know i didn't seem like i had any hope for a while, but i don't think the idea that i would be ok ever really left me. 

show me a poor man with hope and compare him to a rich man without it. which would you rather be? and what greatness does any man have who does give others that sense that somehow things will be alright? what greatness compares to one who gives others hope? the poor man, though what little he has is taken away, hope will let him still smile at the world. the rich man, though he gain the whole world, despair will never let him rest.

alls i'm saying is keep your things. give me hope. 

 

 

ghost

forgotten

how much will be forgotten? in the grand scheme of the Great Wheel
arcing through the days of creation, i ask not what will be
remembered, but what will be lost to Oblivion's eye? in our world, we
sit at the dinner table and a crumb falls here, a scrap is tossed away
there. these are small things we do not even consider. i have imagined
the account books of the universe where all of those crumbs and scraps
are summed up, and the total is huge when gathered into one number.
and yet, we will never notice the total of this whole unthinkable
number. there are innumerable little things, i think, that will be as
if they never were.

still, another voice in my head says that nothing is wasted. how do i
reconcile these two conflicting feelings? is it a matter of causation?
everything, even the little things we lose, are linked in some way.
the scraps of actions we give no thought to, they cause another event,
build on another thing, negate a little of a third. they all lead to
something that perhaps we will remember. in that is our understanding.
we cannot see the grand accounts as i feel they should be seen. we do
not notice the infinite interconnections adding and subtracting from
one another.

in the end, i wonder if God will see the sum, nod, and think of it no more.

ghost

a thought

i like to watch birds drink from small pools of water. they drink
until they are satisfied. dipping their heads they give off little
shivers to shake off the chill.

i find it fascinating. i liken it to moments with my children.

satisfied, the birds fly away. i know i will never encounter them
again. they will probably remember nothing of the drink, not really. i
will. i will remember, i will hold it closer.

somewhere, i believe nothing is wasted. not even the smallest drinks
of water from the tiniest of birds.

ghost

gamesmanship

a friend of mine introduced me to a game called halo:reach last
november. he invited me over several times during the thanksgiving
break to play on his system, and i fell in love with the game. in
january, i bought my own system, an xbox 360, and purchased my own
copy of the game. in january i also blew out my knee again and hung up
my soccer shoes, so this game has given me an arena to work out my
need for competition while not doing my tortured knee any more damage.

often i play alone, though the team function is my favorite. i join up
with other players from all over the world and we, for the ten minutes
or so it takes to complete one match, are a team. there are also times
when i join up with my brother or my friend and we play as a team.
there are other times i play with a group of people whom i've never
met, but through games played together, we have become a sort of
online tribe. we chat while we play, and though i don't think we are
friends in the traditional sense, we do share a certain sense of
kinship.

last night i was playing with this online tribe of mine, and it
occurred to me that even here, in the make believe world of this game,
where i could say anything, be anyone, i still look for the same
characteristics in those i would call friend or team mate as i do of
those i would be friends with in the real world. loyalty, class,
honor, and a sense of duty to the team are important to me, it seems,
no matter what the platform or scenario. more than a few players have
been deleted or blocked because they did not meet my standards.
elitist? snob? possibly, but i believe even in this game, how you
behave speaks volumes as to who you are.

there's no reason for this. it was just something i thought was interesting.

ghost

me two

i was having a conversation with a buddy the other day, and as
conversations between guys sometimes do, the topic turned to women,
what we like, what we don't like in those we would like to become
romantically involved with. for the record, i do not currently have a
person with whom i'd like to become romantically involved, but that
doesn't stop me considering what i would like, should i ever meet
someone. one theme common to both of our lists of favorable
characteristics was honesty. we've both had our hearts ripped out,
stomped on, then lit on fire, so you can imagine it's pretty close to
the top of the list.

as i've been known to, i was thinking about the conversation long
after it ended and i started wondering about how honest people really
are. how many of us live two lives? one is the public mask, the
outward display we show the world. our best face, so to speak. then
there's the you that only you know about, all the secret thoughts,
ideas, things you will do your utmost to protect from prying eyes.
that's someone else. i lie to myself and think that the me that you
see is the me that you get, but i'm sure there are any number of
thoughts and the like i don't want anyone to ever know. i'm a gemini,
after all. two sided by nature.

my question is, does anyone out there live just the one life? is there
anyone out there with nothing to hide?

i suppose, despite my need for complete honesty in my next
relationship, some secrets shouldn't be shared. i don't know what this
world would be like if all people everywhere decided they'd share the
dark things about themselves with everyone they met. it might help me
tell when someone is lying when they tell me they love me, but i
imagine it would be a world where no one could look another person in
the eye, ever again.

ghost

little red wagon

i've mentioned before how the lives of my father and i have followed
eerily similar lines. when i think about the happenings in both, i am
at once both disturbed and hopeful.

when i was small i told my mom i wanted to play football. she wouldn't
ever commit to it and the discussion went on for a while. then, i got
it in my head that i wanted to be a boxer. i told her, and she signed
me up for soccer the next day. i had no idea what soccer was. i doubt
she did either. i showed up to my first practice in jeans and cowboy
boots. and a life long love affair was born.

somewhere in my first season, a ball junk punched me in my man
business and i layed on the ground rolling around in pre puber agony.
my mom was panicking on the sideline, yelling at me, asking if i was
alright. when i could talk again, i yelled out that yes, i was
alright, that i had just been hit in the nuts. which quieted my mom
and made her turn bright red.

fast forward 30+ years and i'm coaching my son's team. yesterday i was
on a knee surrounded by a team of small 4 year old boys trying to
explain to them that the ball could touch their feet, their heads,
their knees and their bellies, but not their hands. one of the boys
said, "if it hits you in the nu nu, you'll do this," then made a face
and bent over slightly. another boy giggled and said, "what's a nu
nu?" we are only yards away from the soccer moms chatting it up and i
am trying to suppress my own chuckles, when Tiny Tank blurts, "you
mean if you get hit in the nuts?"

soccer mom conversation ceased and whatever self control i had
maintained flew away like a plastic wal-mart bag in a west texas
breeze. practiced ended shortly thereafter. i was not embarrassed
like my mom had been so long ago, but i did laugh long and hard. i do
not know where he heard the term nuts. my guess would probably be a
cartoon though. have you watched any of them lately? ridiculous.

it seems my son's life may follow similar lines as my own. i believe
in that sort of thing. i pray that he will be spared the pain i've
endured though. protect my children, Lord. it's all i'm asking.

ghost

i won't apologize for the riot in my eyes

i feel.

i sense things. i usually know when the tide of something has turned,
when the wind of a thing has shifted without any visual, physical,
spiritual evidence of it having revealed itself. it's not always the
case. i have been blindsided from time to time.

things, occurrences, words, ideas, touch me in ways it doesn't touch
others. i don't consider myself special or unique. i think this depth
of feeling is true of almost all of the truly creative types in the
world. this is what gives us the ability to draw on emotion and
passion and pain to create, be it art or music or whatever. i think
this is what allows people like me to have such a good repoire with
our students, some of which every other teacher has given up on. i
think this is a source of my legendary stubborness. you can't convince
me of something i'm not feeling no matter the validity of your logic.
i am not easily led.

of course, it's also a curse. i have developed a thick skin where
most people are concerned. face it, i'm a high school teacher. you
have to have your armor on every day or you won't last a six weeks
with these kids. but people i love can hurt me with ease, and hurt me
in a way i will never forget. there's no defense for it. i don't know
how to shield myself from those i love. i am, to them, the proverbial
open book. and feelings are fallible. i might not always see it for
what it really is. it's a feeling, and there's no right or wrong as
far as those are concerned.

for so long, i have felt the need to justify my feelings. i've had to
explain why i feel a certain way, why i believe and behave a certain
way, only to have someone tell me i'm wrong and then try to convince
me to feel something different.

and i'm tired of it. i'm not apologizing anymore. i'm not cooperating
or compromising. this is how i feel. i'm f*cking angry, and i
guarantee you i'm not giving up another inch. it's my line in the
sand. keep trying to cross it, try to move it to suit your desires,
and i will f*ck up your world.

i am looking for something with whom i don't have to explain or
apologize for my feelings.

ghost

untitled

the world is a symphony of unfinished harmonies.
the cities bustle with walking shadows, our footsteps swallowed by noise.
this life is a fantasy folded in half and stapled shut.

ghost

i'm broken

i don't know when a woman is flirting with me anymore.

i think it's a confidence issue. logically, i know i'm a smart, capable, compassionate, and caring man, but in my heart of hearts, i believe if two women have thrown me away like garbage, then perhaps there is something wrong with me, something undesirable. besides my choice of women.

i'm balding. which is fine with me. hair takes time i don't care to give it any way. i'm not the hard body soccer player i used to be either. pushing carts up sam's hill for seven years saw to that. also, my affair with dr. pepper might have something to do with it. that was a tough one to call off, but i did about a year ago. as a friend described me not so long ago, "you're like a small gorilla."

last night, i took my three wee ones to olive garden because that's what they all wanted, and when i'm able to get all three to agree on something, i don't question, i just do it. our server's name was Gaby and she was cute. toward the end of the meal we were having a really good conversation and she started asking about the kids, which inevitably leads to their moms. i explained with some reluctance and she didn't seem to mind that i had three children from two different women. in fact, she still seemed genuinely interested. that was refreshing. too often i've seen the light of interest in someone's eyes go out immediately once they realize i've been divorced not once, but twice. it's like i can read their minds. twice? there must be something wrong with him.

the sad thing is, during our conversation, all i could think was 'is this genuine interest, or is she just a nice person angling for a tip?'

because i couldn't imagine what she could see in me.

most of the time, I feel like such a broken boy.

ghost