Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Millionaire Man (Part Ten)
Millionaire Man (Part Ten)
Wilfred and I spent more time together, five days a week, just like any other job. I never had to make food for him, or
do any chores, he just needed the company. Wilfred hated being alone, so every day I tried to keep me with him as
long as he could. I felt like crawling away from him sometimes given the way he kept me there.
His home told a story, with pictures that aligned his hallways and living room. Each picture was represented with
Wilfred and the life he made. Each picture, each knick knack, each piece of furniture was a memory that Wilfred
kept, like a secret he would only reveal to those worthy.
It always felt difficult getting a word in with Wilfred and it became frustrating for me sometimes. His life was beautiful,
there was no doubt about it, but it seemed isolated and distant from what was going on in the world. It almost
reminded me of how I felt about myself and the world. My emotions were synced with the same philosophies as his,
so it made me want to capture everything he was saying. He was smart and intelligent, and was not bad to look at
either.
We would talk about who would be the next presidential candidates in two years, to the far off illusions of alternative
medicine. I would listen, acknowledge and form my own opinion based on the information. As much as Wilfred
talked, even if I did not get a word in, it was ok with me.
From a distance I could see myself grow with Wilfred. As the weeks pushed together to form our friendship, I began
to feel guilty accepting Sam’s money for spending time with Wilfred. I felt smarter being around him, and more alive.
“Cory, what are you going to do with yourself?” Wilfred said, interrupting my thoughts one Friday afternoon. “Work”
as I still had a hard time calling it, was almost over. I picked up my sandwich, and began chewing as I pondered
Wilfred’s rhetorical comment.
“What do you mean?” I mumbled. Wilfred stared at me in a daze, smiling slowly, and resisting the instinct to look
down at his tea. Wilfred sighed but still stayed confident.
“Cory, after Sam dies, where are you going to go?” Wilfred continued to be insistent in waiting for my answer. I
shrugged my shoulders, and sighed. “Well I am guessing that I will probably just try to save enough money so that I’ll
be ok for a while.”
Wilfred got up and sat close to me, invading my personal bubble and halting my chewing. “I’m not going to lie to you
my friend, I like you.”
Wilfred scooted closer, his gazes frightened me, yet I showed no emotion on the outside. Wilfred took his hand and
gently laid it on my leg as he smiled.
“Cory, I could, would be your friend long after Sam is gone. I don’t know if you know that the average person is lucky
to have three close friends for the rest of their lives. I could be one of those people. As Wilfred’s hand got closer to
my crotch, the more I slowly pulled away.
“Look, all this talking about death is making me uncomfortable,” I said watching Wilfred move his hand further, “ I
figured when my time comes, my time will come and I like to leave it like that. I am sure Sam feels the same way.”
Wilfred looked at his hand as it neared the top of my leg. I shivered and stood up looking at my watch.
“Hey it’s already 4:30, time to head out. I’ll see you next week W,” I swiftly said, rushing out the door. My heart
pounded as I shut the door of my Audi. I did not know what to think or how to feel. I have never been with a man, hell
I’ve never been with a woman. I was so focused on the only woman in my life, my mother that I never paid attention
to any girl or guy that walked passed me. As my car pulled away and toward my apartment, I could only consider
what would happen if I liked Wilfred that way. I am still trying to figure out if I like Amanda, or if I just want to push her
away because she makes me feel dependent on someone. Either way, this was not the way to start my weekend.
As I walked into the door, the noise of the TV and surround shook the apartment. Amanda was gone, and Jessie was
staring at me in 3D glasses.
“Hey,” he smiled, lowering the volume of the television. It was hard not to smile at Jessie, especially since his glasses
looked way too big for him. I sighed and dropped my head, plopping right next to Jessie where explosions took the
majority of the screen on TV. Jessie pulled back as if he could feel the heat of the explosion with his 3D glasses.
“Whoa,” he whispered, as the absence of being in the moment was still past him.
“Jessie, I have a problem,” I said out loud, hoping Jessie would just let me talk to him without him hearing me. Jessie
nodded, bouncing to the TV, and looking at me. I shrugged and started my fiasco of dealing with a man in love with
me.
“So I am supposed to be looking after this guy my boss assigned me too. I really like the guy, but I do not know if I
like, like the guy. I just think he is a really interesting guy and I really have a good time hanging around him.”
Jessie continues to bob his head, and shifting his attention between the television and myself. I begin to drift myself,
losing the context and the overall reason why I asked for Jessie’s advice, especially since he is not present most of
the time, so why would he be able to help?
“Damn Ryan Gosling is hot…I mean he was juicy in The Notebook, but man, “Drive” takes the cake, dude, are you
watching this?” Jessie stared at me for an urgent reaction. I just started back.
“You’re gay?” I said shocked.
“I’m Bisexual when I’m drunk, because I love boobs,” Jesse giggles thinking about the thought, “but yea I’m homo-
sex-ual.”
“How did I not know this about you?” I murmured.
“Maybe because you have a stick so far up your ass that you only pay attention to you,” Jessie once again
smiled, “Or we never hang out, one of the two are true.”
“So…you are the perfect person to ask!” I said, shocked that it took me this long to come to this solution.
“How do you know?” I mumbled. Jessie sighed, “You just know Cory, my man. Are you attracted to guys or girls? It is
that simple.”
“Well I like woman, but I do not find them very attractive, yet I am still not really attracted to guys either, I’m so
confused.” Jessie laughed, and turned to me, leaving a condescending look behind.
“Alright, promise you will not kick me out?” He laughed.
“I’ve been trying to get you two out forever, so I give up.”
“Good,” Jessie said leaning into me. My eyes widened as he kissed my lips, pressing softly so as not to overwhelm
me. He took one hand and reached behind my head, leaning me into the couch. I felt the weight of his body take
the place of my reservations. As we kissed I felt the emotion that was meant to be, like the electricity throughout my
body. Jesse’s pot breath was worth putting up with as I took my hand and explored his body. I was surprised to feel a
body that was firm, especially since I had never seen Jesse work out.
As my hand found Jesse, Jesse unbuttoned my shirt, kissing my neck, and kicking off his shoes. As he opened my
shirt he did not stop kissing me until he reached my belly button. I smiled, feeling all the energy that once avoided
the situation, was used now to feel every touch. Jesse took my shirt, throwing both of ours off the couch and onto the
ground. He sat up and laid his hand on my leg, taking a couple sighs of relief.
“Dude I think your gay.”
Monday, January 9, 2012
Its Been Awhile...Since I just wrote to you... Its my 2010 review of my year:)
(Caroline and I at "The Innocent" Premiere)
Did I tell you how long its been since we talked? I know I have really abandoned you and I think that has really affected my writing. I apologize, its been a crazy few months, and I know that isn't an excuse. Its weird I just happend to go online and look for something in this blog that I wanted to just take and I ended up realizing that I am so much better at this blog, writing, less video, so here we are.
There is so much that happend this year starting with that I realized that I have really abandoned the one person I have been dating for about 26 years, and thats myself. So I spent a lot of time with myself. I really got to know a lot about me, which i always though was so silly. Like, why spend time with yourself? Life to short to be by yourself, and you know what? The more I did the more I grew to really love myself.
Throughout the year I really was about to get back to trusting myself, and trusting the people around me. You know what really surprised me though? Caroline, one of my best friends. Its hard to believe that someone I have underestimated has done everything to make my life easier. Challanging, but still there. I have so much to thank her for. Lexi was the othere person that just to this day blows me away with kindness. I am so thankful. Without Caroline, AGA FILMS couldn't have been what it is today.
This year I made three short films, all intertwined into a story of a woman just looking for love called "First Date." While I want to say I took the characters out of thin air, I really took them from myself and my best friends. First Date started with me writing down idea's on the back of an envelope, with a pen about to run out of ink. In the end, I wrote my first production, and by November, My films were shot, and in the editing room.
I feel like I am ready to live by myself. I have yet to do that. I have always lived with someone else, and I think that type of dependence is something that I have held onto forever, and needs to change.
I feel like if i would look back at my life a four years ago, I would has seen my life in defeat, but its not the case today. There is so many beauitiful things that have just came into my life in so many ways. I am here, and fighting, like I always do. I become this stubborn, frustrated individual until the "processing happens" then all of a sudden, I realize where I am and I'm back again.
"Millionaire Man" is taking way longer then I expected. As we speak I am trying to think of ideas to keep it on track.Wish me luck, because I am going to jump right back into it again.
2012 has been fortold as something destructive, but i look at it as a time to grow, to thrive, and a time to love. To love those around you, but also to love youself.
The change of winds are so new and fresh, yet embracing. I look forward to such a challange.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Millionaire Man (Part Nine)
“It’s not every day that I meet someone like you,” Sam began, “someone who honest, hardworking, and loyal. For the last few years, I really thought I couldn’t find someone with all of that attached. But then a man by the name of Wilfred came into your pizza shop. Do you remember Wilfred?”
“No, I mean, there are lots of people who are regulars who used to come into the shop, but unless they had a credit card, I didn’t really ask their name or anything. It’s really none of my business. “
Sam laughed, “Well Wilfred has been known to change his name on people anyway, so good luck trying to figure him out. You stood out though, Wilfred and I were talking and he couldn’t stop talking about how friendly you were. “
“Well, I work in customer service, I have to be friendly.”
“But you see,” Sam said, “Wilfred never talks about anyone. He is known to talk politics, or even ideas, never gossip about some individual.”
I am not really sure what all of this had to do about my job, or the new proposition, but I was intrigued. Finally the money was coming into my new apartment, and I was feeling steady. Moreover this proposition was feeling more like a promotion, and I was all for that.
The pain of loss was less, and my stinging stain for approval was now filling the void that was once hurt. I felt like the more I did for Sam the more I felt acknowledged, and the less I needed to care about my own feelings. So, maybe with the help of Wilfred I could get closer to Sam.
Sam smiled as he saw the gears ticking in my brain. He knew he had me the second he assured me of a raise, more responsibility and a change from the everyday lull of work.
“Here are the directions, I want you to go see him, and talk with him. See if you two click.” Sam suggested.
“Wait what do you mean, click?” I said, “I’m not gay, well, not that I know of.” Sam leaned in to me and shuffled my hair. “Who said anything about gay, man, I got plans for you two. Consider it a domestic partnership.”
I was uninhibited at Sam’s reply, but I couldn’t let him down. After I printed off online directions, I left with diligence to Wilfred’s house. I was exuberant and determined to make yet another excellent impression as one of Sam’s favorite employee’s.
Pulling up to the green one story house and leaving all prejudices behind, I parked just inches from the curb in my Audi. Perfection was turning into a habit for me.
I walked up hastily to the door, with small bits of nervousness in me. It’s never been me to walk up to a stranger and get to know them. I’ve never been the kind of person that makes decisions like what I am doing right now. But I have been doing a lot of things I am not used to.
My knock on the door was no louder than the tap of a woodpecker, and still footsteps heard my call. The floor creaked as footprints muddled the old floor. I heard a cough and a sniffle as the footsteps approached. The door lock unlocked and the door opened quietly. The man in the shadow appeared gently.
Wilfred, alone in the cold darkness that was his home pulled his unconscious resistance, peering only to see me in his slit of view through the door. “Yes?” Wilfred mumbled. I could see his nervous exposure to a rare stranger visiting him, like the first day of school to a kindergartener.
“Mr. Wilfred? Sam sent me over…I’m Cory. “Wilfred looked at me slowly, then his eyes widened.
“From, from the pizza shop, like with the broken light on the sign?” Wilfred moved closer to me as the door widened. I looked at him smiling and nodding, only remembering the monogamy that was my life. Wilfred smiled back with excitement, opening his door to me.
“Come in come in! I can’t believe Sam found you!”
“What do you mean “found me?’” I said cautiously, taking a step back.
“Oh never mind that, come on in, come on in we have so much to talk about.”
Wilfred took me to the living room and had me sit at his green couch with stains on it. He was nervous, that’s for sure, but I wasn’t. His nervousness enabled my confidence immediately. I figured a guy this nervous has nothing going for him, which liberated my own insecurities. Wilfred walked into his kitchen, stumbling through old garbage spread across the ground. The home was covered with laundry and old garbage, lining the walls and countertops.
Soon enough, he returned with hot tea, and sat down across from me. The steam whisked away from the cup as Wilfred sipped his cup. The wrinkles from his face squeezed as the heat grazed his face. He was looking away like philosophical monk, and then turned back to me. I looked away, but kept him in my peripheral vision. He began to speak in codes, like a teacher trying to force his students to learn.
“In the heat of any moment, I find myself dazing over my life,” Wilfred started, “I was hoping I can find a solution or a cure to my loneliness. I feel like I find it when I am around my friends. But for some reason, I am still lost. Do you know what I mean or is this making no sense to you?”
I looked at Wilfred’s worn face, and smiled weakly in a tone of unsettling darkness looming over my nervousness. I pulled my thinking back to express his unhappiness in a realistic way.
“I understand being lonely I guess, “I said, “I guess I never looked for a cure or solution to it though. I always thought that if you persisted at life, you could get anything you wanted.”
Wilfred paused, for he was looking for some rhetoric answer, not some realistic response to his Buddha philosophy, even if I tried to even out his own wit. Instead, in a way I stifled his way of bragging about his own intelligence. Wilfred put his cup down and leaned back. He smiled for a moment and stared back at me.
“I like you,” He said, almost blushing, yet his aggravation was still showing. He looked down for a moment to restrain his own emotions, and then smiled at the thought of my efforts.
“So, you like working for Sam?” Wilfred continued, sipping his hot tea, gently pursing his lips to the tip of the cup. I awkwardly looked back for a moment, but continued.
“I do, I really do. He has been a father to me since I met him,” I sighed, looking back at the last couple months, “He has been very generous, and I still can’t believe everything he has done for me. He has me a car, a stable income, hell I feel dependent on him even for my happiness. I don’t know if you can understand that, but I don’t know where I would be without him.”
“Well Sam, is known to be a provider, that’s for sure. I remember first meeting him. That man had a way about himself, the way he always was the first to buy the beers, the first to be there when someone was in need, but it wasn’t real. I learned that way too late, and now look at me,” Wilfred looked down, laughing at his potbelly and overgrown whiskers. His eyes grew more concentration as he stared at me, “ I would be careful of him. I can’t imagine why he is putting so much effort into getting your attention and approval, but knowing him, we will find out soon enough.”
Wilfred began to daze away from our conversation soon after and soon enough fell asleep after his tea. I kept the TV on, as I let myself out. Wilfred didn’t look healthy, yet at the same time, I had trouble believing what he said about Sam. Sam was more than a friend, he was family. I wanted, I needed to feel secure for once, and this was not helping. My only hope was that Wilfred was losing himself, and I wasn’t losing my support.
“No, I mean, there are lots of people who are regulars who used to come into the shop, but unless they had a credit card, I didn’t really ask their name or anything. It’s really none of my business. “
Sam laughed, “Well Wilfred has been known to change his name on people anyway, so good luck trying to figure him out. You stood out though, Wilfred and I were talking and he couldn’t stop talking about how friendly you were. “
“Well, I work in customer service, I have to be friendly.”
“But you see,” Sam said, “Wilfred never talks about anyone. He is known to talk politics, or even ideas, never gossip about some individual.”
I am not really sure what all of this had to do about my job, or the new proposition, but I was intrigued. Finally the money was coming into my new apartment, and I was feeling steady. Moreover this proposition was feeling more like a promotion, and I was all for that.
The pain of loss was less, and my stinging stain for approval was now filling the void that was once hurt. I felt like the more I did for Sam the more I felt acknowledged, and the less I needed to care about my own feelings. So, maybe with the help of Wilfred I could get closer to Sam.
Sam smiled as he saw the gears ticking in my brain. He knew he had me the second he assured me of a raise, more responsibility and a change from the everyday lull of work.
“Here are the directions, I want you to go see him, and talk with him. See if you two click.” Sam suggested.
“Wait what do you mean, click?” I said, “I’m not gay, well, not that I know of.” Sam leaned in to me and shuffled my hair. “Who said anything about gay, man, I got plans for you two. Consider it a domestic partnership.”
I was uninhibited at Sam’s reply, but I couldn’t let him down. After I printed off online directions, I left with diligence to Wilfred’s house. I was exuberant and determined to make yet another excellent impression as one of Sam’s favorite employee’s.
Pulling up to the green one story house and leaving all prejudices behind, I parked just inches from the curb in my Audi. Perfection was turning into a habit for me.
I walked up hastily to the door, with small bits of nervousness in me. It’s never been me to walk up to a stranger and get to know them. I’ve never been the kind of person that makes decisions like what I am doing right now. But I have been doing a lot of things I am not used to.
My knock on the door was no louder than the tap of a woodpecker, and still footsteps heard my call. The floor creaked as footprints muddled the old floor. I heard a cough and a sniffle as the footsteps approached. The door lock unlocked and the door opened quietly. The man in the shadow appeared gently.
Wilfred, alone in the cold darkness that was his home pulled his unconscious resistance, peering only to see me in his slit of view through the door. “Yes?” Wilfred mumbled. I could see his nervous exposure to a rare stranger visiting him, like the first day of school to a kindergartener.
“Mr. Wilfred? Sam sent me over…I’m Cory. “Wilfred looked at me slowly, then his eyes widened.
“From, from the pizza shop, like with the broken light on the sign?” Wilfred moved closer to me as the door widened. I looked at him smiling and nodding, only remembering the monogamy that was my life. Wilfred smiled back with excitement, opening his door to me.
“Come in come in! I can’t believe Sam found you!”
“What do you mean “found me?’” I said cautiously, taking a step back.
“Oh never mind that, come on in, come on in we have so much to talk about.”
Wilfred took me to the living room and had me sit at his green couch with stains on it. He was nervous, that’s for sure, but I wasn’t. His nervousness enabled my confidence immediately. I figured a guy this nervous has nothing going for him, which liberated my own insecurities. Wilfred walked into his kitchen, stumbling through old garbage spread across the ground. The home was covered with laundry and old garbage, lining the walls and countertops.
Soon enough, he returned with hot tea, and sat down across from me. The steam whisked away from the cup as Wilfred sipped his cup. The wrinkles from his face squeezed as the heat grazed his face. He was looking away like philosophical monk, and then turned back to me. I looked away, but kept him in my peripheral vision. He began to speak in codes, like a teacher trying to force his students to learn.
“In the heat of any moment, I find myself dazing over my life,” Wilfred started, “I was hoping I can find a solution or a cure to my loneliness. I feel like I find it when I am around my friends. But for some reason, I am still lost. Do you know what I mean or is this making no sense to you?”
I looked at Wilfred’s worn face, and smiled weakly in a tone of unsettling darkness looming over my nervousness. I pulled my thinking back to express his unhappiness in a realistic way.
“I understand being lonely I guess, “I said, “I guess I never looked for a cure or solution to it though. I always thought that if you persisted at life, you could get anything you wanted.”
Wilfred paused, for he was looking for some rhetoric answer, not some realistic response to his Buddha philosophy, even if I tried to even out his own wit. Instead, in a way I stifled his way of bragging about his own intelligence. Wilfred put his cup down and leaned back. He smiled for a moment and stared back at me.
“I like you,” He said, almost blushing, yet his aggravation was still showing. He looked down for a moment to restrain his own emotions, and then smiled at the thought of my efforts.
“So, you like working for Sam?” Wilfred continued, sipping his hot tea, gently pursing his lips to the tip of the cup. I awkwardly looked back for a moment, but continued.
“I do, I really do. He has been a father to me since I met him,” I sighed, looking back at the last couple months, “He has been very generous, and I still can’t believe everything he has done for me. He has me a car, a stable income, hell I feel dependent on him even for my happiness. I don’t know if you can understand that, but I don’t know where I would be without him.”
“Well Sam, is known to be a provider, that’s for sure. I remember first meeting him. That man had a way about himself, the way he always was the first to buy the beers, the first to be there when someone was in need, but it wasn’t real. I learned that way too late, and now look at me,” Wilfred looked down, laughing at his potbelly and overgrown whiskers. His eyes grew more concentration as he stared at me, “ I would be careful of him. I can’t imagine why he is putting so much effort into getting your attention and approval, but knowing him, we will find out soon enough.”
Wilfred began to daze away from our conversation soon after and soon enough fell asleep after his tea. I kept the TV on, as I let myself out. Wilfred didn’t look healthy, yet at the same time, I had trouble believing what he said about Sam. Sam was more than a friend, he was family. I wanted, I needed to feel secure for once, and this was not helping. My only hope was that Wilfred was losing himself, and I wasn’t losing my support.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Hurting Bite
I can't sleep....but I'm drifting...
I'm drifting from life, from fears from hope and back into my wonder world of distance.
I can't stop hurting, and I know its tearing me apart...
I keep seeing myself in a different paradise, but lose what can be from my own scheme's and dillusions...
I can't find what I am looking for yet I still keep searching, tricking myself, seducing myself and manipulating myself into believing there is a better me out there...
A man who isn't still angry, and betrayed and heartbrokern...
A man who isn't always the strong one, or the one that people can depend on.
A man who isn't cold when he lays in bed...
I have to believe there is a better me out there...
I'm drifting from life, from fears from hope and back into my wonder world of distance.
I can't stop hurting, and I know its tearing me apart...
I keep seeing myself in a different paradise, but lose what can be from my own scheme's and dillusions...
I can't find what I am looking for yet I still keep searching, tricking myself, seducing myself and manipulating myself into believing there is a better me out there...
A man who isn't still angry, and betrayed and heartbrokern...
A man who isn't always the strong one, or the one that people can depend on.
A man who isn't cold when he lays in bed...
I have to believe there is a better me out there...
Millionaire Man Part Eight
Millionaire Man
Part 8
My dream of my mother was so much more real the night after my new job started. She was sitting on the couch of my old musty apartment humming. The humming echoed through my brain as I quietly kept watching her. As I walked to her, I could see her leaning over thumbing through an old photo album. She looked up for a moment as if reliving a picture in her head, and then back to the album.
“Mom,” I said. My mother continued to hum, and chuckle at each picture she saw. I sat down next to her, as a poof of dust swirled from my cushion impact. My mother leaned over to me and pointed at a picture. I could smell the cookies off her breath as she told her background story of the picture.
“I can’t help looking at this picture and laughing. You had no Idea that I had been watching you. Oh my lord, look at you in your superman underwear reaching for the game board. Oh I miss this, I miss you.”
I smiled and my mother. I didn’t ask questions, nor did I try to take anything away from the moment we were having. Instead, I sat close to my mother as she continued to spill childhood secrets to me with every picture.
As my mother closed the photo album, I looked down and stared at my mother’s shaking hands. I looked at her smile of serenity once more before seeing the pain that only hid beneath the shadows. I was losing her again. Her face turned pail and her hands were shaking harder than ever before. I reached for her hand, but he hand turned to dust with my touch. I screamed at the sight of the missing limb, only to desperately lunge for my mother. Sadly, my weight only turned her image into thousands of little particles hovering over the couch and heading toward the sunlight.
“Wake up baby, and let go of me, damn it,” She echoed as I sat on my once occupied couch. I stared again at the empty space and feelings that lingered. I screamed at the top of my lungs, and felt the tear run down. I won’t let go of my mother if she forces me to. I screamed one more time hearing only the ringing of my ears. All of a sudden a cold hand touched my cheek. Droplets of water fell from the roof of the apartment in my dream.
A voice kept saying “God I’m so sorry,” over and over, and I didn’t recognize the voice. It reminded me of my mother, but it was raspy once again. It was Amanda’s Voice once again. I woke once, with tears pouring from my eyes and Amanda holding my hand and crying. I reached up and wiped her misery from her eyes. She was lost in my own filth of distain of what I would call my pain.
I got up to leave, but Amanda wouldn’t let go of my hand.
“Let go,” I said calmly. Amanda stayed fixated on my and, pulling my arm closer and tightening her grip. I repeated myself again, only to be ignored again.
“Amanda,” I said, “It’s going to be ok.” Amanda looked at me with her eyes full of pain and irritation. She indignantly looked at me, and for a moment, she stopped crying. I stared at her in residual distance and uncertainty. Her eyes glazed with affection, and hand warmed with sincerity. Amanda leaned in with a tear still falling in her eye, and pursed her lips. I leaned back, avoided her lips. Amanda continued to move forward with little let up. So I took the palm of my hand, leaving her lips to taste the sweat of my hand. Amanda opened her eyes, leaving her in shock and my reaction to her. Her reaction was as if I had hit her with an unsavory reality.
“You act like you know me , but you don’t,” I grunted, “Whatever you’re thinking about me, or felt about me changing, you’re wrong. So stop crying and get a grip.”
I got up and walked out of the room, while Amanda sat still stoned from frustration and embarrassment.
I knew I was an asshole, and people like me don’t change, no matter how nice you are to them. We believe we matter more than anyone else and that is that. I feel sorry for a lot of people, especially the ones that try. Nonetheless, as much as I would like to hold on to hope that Amanda would accept me, even with the flaws, I can only pray I die before I figure it out.
The next morning, I got up to the smell of bacon and waffles cooking. It was the best thing to wake up to in the morning. The smell of searing bacon woke up me up. Last night I had managed to make it back to my room, and back to bed. As I walked down the hallway to the kitchen, I could see Amanda in front of the stove. She looked at me in a friendly, waitress-like tone.
“Hey Punk!” she smiled, “Hungry?”
I raised my eyebrows and shrugged my shoulders, “Sure.” I watched Amanda as she flipped the bacon. There was pain in her eyes, that much was clear. But it was overshadowed by the implicit determination to avoid the pain I had spun last night. As the sound of a waffle landed on my plate, I couldn’t help but stare in Amanda’s eyes. She was going out of her way to be nice, and I was taking advantage of it.
“Why are you being nice to me?” I finally said, “I mean I rejected you last night and this morning you’re cooking me breakfast as if nothing happened last night.”
“Well nothing DID happen,” Amanda replied, “So eat your waffle, it’s getting cold.”
“No,” I taunted, “First tell me why you haven’t said anything about last night, then I will eat.”
“Last night was a mistake, and I am already tired of bringing it up.” Amanda shrugged, “Look, the only thing Jesse and I came here to do was to make sure you don’t off yourself, that’s it. Everything else doesn’t matter. So if I have to hand feed you your waffle, I will. Just eat your food and shut the hell up.”
I could see why Amanda was dying for me to try her cooking. Her food was delicious, even without the pot cooked in it. She knew the right amount of spices and just the right sugar to put on the waffle. Some people make waffles so good that you can eat them without getting a stomachache before you’re done.
Weeks became only a couple months working for Sam. He was honest respectful, a little flirty, but extremely professional. I couldn’t wait to wake up in the morning to get to work and make the big bucks. My salary had tripled within only weeks, accommodating almost all my needs. Money became an agitating reminder that my mother wasn’t around. She would have been so proud seeing it flow like a river in a small forest. She would have hugged me so tight that I would have to push her away just to breathe. All in all, she would have wanted me to be happy, and that exactly what money was doing for me. Still, I refused to leave my broken down apartment, no matter how much money I made. I couldn’t lose any memory of my mother. Instead, when the apartment complex decided to turn there building into renovated condos, I couldn’t help but throw my name into the ticket to own my new condo.
Sam had already given me so much, and will very little responsibility in return. But that all changed one late, Friday afternoon, when Sam had reached yet another proposition…
Part 8
My dream of my mother was so much more real the night after my new job started. She was sitting on the couch of my old musty apartment humming. The humming echoed through my brain as I quietly kept watching her. As I walked to her, I could see her leaning over thumbing through an old photo album. She looked up for a moment as if reliving a picture in her head, and then back to the album.
“Mom,” I said. My mother continued to hum, and chuckle at each picture she saw. I sat down next to her, as a poof of dust swirled from my cushion impact. My mother leaned over to me and pointed at a picture. I could smell the cookies off her breath as she told her background story of the picture.
“I can’t help looking at this picture and laughing. You had no Idea that I had been watching you. Oh my lord, look at you in your superman underwear reaching for the game board. Oh I miss this, I miss you.”
I smiled and my mother. I didn’t ask questions, nor did I try to take anything away from the moment we were having. Instead, I sat close to my mother as she continued to spill childhood secrets to me with every picture.
As my mother closed the photo album, I looked down and stared at my mother’s shaking hands. I looked at her smile of serenity once more before seeing the pain that only hid beneath the shadows. I was losing her again. Her face turned pail and her hands were shaking harder than ever before. I reached for her hand, but he hand turned to dust with my touch. I screamed at the sight of the missing limb, only to desperately lunge for my mother. Sadly, my weight only turned her image into thousands of little particles hovering over the couch and heading toward the sunlight.
“Wake up baby, and let go of me, damn it,” She echoed as I sat on my once occupied couch. I stared again at the empty space and feelings that lingered. I screamed at the top of my lungs, and felt the tear run down. I won’t let go of my mother if she forces me to. I screamed one more time hearing only the ringing of my ears. All of a sudden a cold hand touched my cheek. Droplets of water fell from the roof of the apartment in my dream.
A voice kept saying “God I’m so sorry,” over and over, and I didn’t recognize the voice. It reminded me of my mother, but it was raspy once again. It was Amanda’s Voice once again. I woke once, with tears pouring from my eyes and Amanda holding my hand and crying. I reached up and wiped her misery from her eyes. She was lost in my own filth of distain of what I would call my pain.
I got up to leave, but Amanda wouldn’t let go of my hand.
“Let go,” I said calmly. Amanda stayed fixated on my and, pulling my arm closer and tightening her grip. I repeated myself again, only to be ignored again.
“Amanda,” I said, “It’s going to be ok.” Amanda looked at me with her eyes full of pain and irritation. She indignantly looked at me, and for a moment, she stopped crying. I stared at her in residual distance and uncertainty. Her eyes glazed with affection, and hand warmed with sincerity. Amanda leaned in with a tear still falling in her eye, and pursed her lips. I leaned back, avoided her lips. Amanda continued to move forward with little let up. So I took the palm of my hand, leaving her lips to taste the sweat of my hand. Amanda opened her eyes, leaving her in shock and my reaction to her. Her reaction was as if I had hit her with an unsavory reality.
“You act like you know me , but you don’t,” I grunted, “Whatever you’re thinking about me, or felt about me changing, you’re wrong. So stop crying and get a grip.”
I got up and walked out of the room, while Amanda sat still stoned from frustration and embarrassment.
I knew I was an asshole, and people like me don’t change, no matter how nice you are to them. We believe we matter more than anyone else and that is that. I feel sorry for a lot of people, especially the ones that try. Nonetheless, as much as I would like to hold on to hope that Amanda would accept me, even with the flaws, I can only pray I die before I figure it out.
The next morning, I got up to the smell of bacon and waffles cooking. It was the best thing to wake up to in the morning. The smell of searing bacon woke up me up. Last night I had managed to make it back to my room, and back to bed. As I walked down the hallway to the kitchen, I could see Amanda in front of the stove. She looked at me in a friendly, waitress-like tone.
“Hey Punk!” she smiled, “Hungry?”
I raised my eyebrows and shrugged my shoulders, “Sure.” I watched Amanda as she flipped the bacon. There was pain in her eyes, that much was clear. But it was overshadowed by the implicit determination to avoid the pain I had spun last night. As the sound of a waffle landed on my plate, I couldn’t help but stare in Amanda’s eyes. She was going out of her way to be nice, and I was taking advantage of it.
“Why are you being nice to me?” I finally said, “I mean I rejected you last night and this morning you’re cooking me breakfast as if nothing happened last night.”
“Well nothing DID happen,” Amanda replied, “So eat your waffle, it’s getting cold.”
“No,” I taunted, “First tell me why you haven’t said anything about last night, then I will eat.”
“Last night was a mistake, and I am already tired of bringing it up.” Amanda shrugged, “Look, the only thing Jesse and I came here to do was to make sure you don’t off yourself, that’s it. Everything else doesn’t matter. So if I have to hand feed you your waffle, I will. Just eat your food and shut the hell up.”
I could see why Amanda was dying for me to try her cooking. Her food was delicious, even without the pot cooked in it. She knew the right amount of spices and just the right sugar to put on the waffle. Some people make waffles so good that you can eat them without getting a stomachache before you’re done.
Weeks became only a couple months working for Sam. He was honest respectful, a little flirty, but extremely professional. I couldn’t wait to wake up in the morning to get to work and make the big bucks. My salary had tripled within only weeks, accommodating almost all my needs. Money became an agitating reminder that my mother wasn’t around. She would have been so proud seeing it flow like a river in a small forest. She would have hugged me so tight that I would have to push her away just to breathe. All in all, she would have wanted me to be happy, and that exactly what money was doing for me. Still, I refused to leave my broken down apartment, no matter how much money I made. I couldn’t lose any memory of my mother. Instead, when the apartment complex decided to turn there building into renovated condos, I couldn’t help but throw my name into the ticket to own my new condo.
Sam had already given me so much, and will very little responsibility in return. But that all changed one late, Friday afternoon, when Sam had reached yet another proposition…
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
I'm Losing Myself- Aaron Gregory Austin
I’m losing myself…
I’m losing myself, but I know I'll find it,
Last time I had me, I was confident, stable and happy,
I’m losing myself, but I know I'll find it,
Last time I had me, I was holding him and he was holding me,
I’m losing myself, but I know I'll find it,
It just takes a deep breath of this painful air, and a swallow of good energy.
I’m losing myself, but I know you will find it,
Last time, you did, and I cried, because I missed being me.
-Aaron Gregory Austin
LIES-Aaron Gregory Austin
LIES-
I am looking at the world through a clear window.
I see only with the clarity of what I can see through it.
I wipe the tear I once held in…
I whisper, “It’s going to be ok, it’s going to be ok.”
I know its not, but lying is key in denial
This window is all I have left of him, that and memories.
“It’s going to be a great day” I whisper.
I know its not going to be, but lying is key in denial
A Ping Pong Ball drops from the counter.
Why am I remembering this, I am not ready to forgive
I am not ready to let go of my pain.
I am not ready to leave this hell that was built by him and I
Goodbye memories, Goodbye Shame, Goodbye Guilt, and
Goodbye to you for letting me go, and choosing someone
Who isn’t family.
Lying is key in denial.
Goodbye Dad.
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