Wednesday, August 28, 2013

Nineteen To Two For Forever

My first ride on the Himalaya ride at the county fair lasted roughly nineteen years.

I can still hear the distorted voice coming from the speaker shouting, "Do ya wanna go faster?" ... "I CAN'T HEAR YOU.... DO YA WANNA GO FASTER?"..... I can hear it over and over again...
The ride would get faster, and faster... my grip getting tighter on the bar, oh, let's call it 'reality', as I slid farther and farther away from the edge of where I started the ride.

Then, the ride would slow down..... mercifully. I would shimmy back to where I was sitting when I started the ride and all was well. And then... it happened.

The damned Himalaya ride stopped completely and with a gentle jolt, began a backwards motion.

Slowly, at first, then faster. And then, the distorted voice, screaming, "Do ya wanna go faster?".... "DO YA WANNA GO FASTER?" ... Now the voice was accompanied by a siren....

And this went on for nineteen years.

This was my first marriage. No, this was my first marriage on steroids with a bipolar mind.

I'm now two days away from the two-year anniversary of my marriage to my soulmate, my second wife, Pamela, Pam, muh bebe. And, there are no sirens, no Himalaya rides.
And although we had our rollercoaster rides early in our relationship, the majority of those rides have been dismantled. What remains may be a 'Scooby Doo' kiddy coaster or a 'Small World' Disney cruise on a hot day.

We do not have the perfect marriage. How could we? She married me. But we have each other. I have loved her from the very moment I first saw her. And, despite what many think, I've loved her in lives past. She is my joy.

It took nineteen years to realize what I needed in my life and who I needed in my life to make those things happen. She would say the same. What is funny, in a strange way, is that my ex-wife would say the same for herself. I'm happy for her, despite all of our past cutthroat jibes and hate-filled diatribe.

Two years. I never thought I'd marry again. I never thought I'd live this long, to be honest, given my propensity for dumbass decisions. But, I've changed myself and my decision-making based upon my love for and promises made to this one woman. I'm almost.. *gulp* domesticated.

Or maybe I'm just older. Or wiser. Hell, I'm forty-nine in age now and almost twenty-six mentally. I'm growing up. Soon, I'll buy shoes with laces and start going to church.


Sunday, August 11, 2013

Curious George Grows Up.. Part 1

George was a always curious sort. He liked to travel and meet people from faraway lands. This caused George to have many experiences both good and bad and as a result also allowed George to make many new friends in clinics, detention centers and hospitals around the world.

One day, when leaving a clinic in Bangkok after receiving a special injection for 'love prevention', George decided he would leave Thailand with his new friend, curiously named Georgette, whom he had met the night before, and head back to America, a faraway land he hadn't seen for years.

So, George traveled back to the hotel with Georgette, who strangely had lumps in places that George thought curious, although Georgette wasn't very put off by the fact that George was a simian, or monkey, for the layman amongst us.

Little did Georgette know that her...uh...his... uh... her.... the hat was a magnet. It had been many years for George.


George had been searching twenty seven years for the Man in the Yellow Hat. Ever since the rainy day in Belgium when two buxom women approached the Man in the Yellow Hat and dragged him into a building with a flashing neon sign. When the Man exited, the Yellow Hat was gone. And so was his whimsical smile. All that remained was a bug-eyed look of 'What have I been doing with a fuckin' monkey all these years?' and "Why am I in this stupid hat?'

After that, despite George's underarm scratches and chirping, jumping up and down and cheerful demeanor, The Man in the Yellow Hat who No longer wore a Yellow Hat simply walked away. George then watched as the Yellow Man stopped a rather lovely lady, spoke a few words to her, they walked into a bar and then he disappeared forever.


The plane touched down at LaGuardia without incident although for some reason the plane was put in a holding pattern for over an hour while officials cleared with US customs and Border Patrol as well as Homeland Security Officials the fact that there was a talking monkey on board with a transgendered female companion. Once it was determined that it was George, the beloved monkey from their youth, who had simply grown to appreciate sexual variety, they were allowed to land without further delay.

It was total chaos when George and Georgette deplaned. No one had seen George for so long. No longer was George the only curious one. A naked monkey with grey stubble sporting a beautiful Thai woman, though lumpy in places women usually aren't lumpy, tends to draw the eye away from the usual celebrity striding down the concourse. Justin Bieber went unnoticed even more so than usual this day.

Yet, in the corner, sat a man. A man in a faded yellow slicker, wearing a Fedora and flip flops.  Unshaven, bloodshot eyes, a smirk on his face and holding a book.

........ to be continued.........

Friday, August 9, 2013

Dumb Little Thought

I read these quotes from noteable authors, historians and philosophers posted on sites like Facebook all of the time stating the same thing... "Write from the heart, write from your feelings, write from where you are, who you are... don't try to placate others feelings by sacrificing your own". Basically. 

If you've read my blog, this is what I do. 

I don't know how to placate. Placate sounds like a dental condition. I think I'm physically and mentally incapable of placating. That's not to say that I can't relate to others and their feelings but placating is basically sucking up, giving in and surrendering. 

I see it every day. I used to do it and I felt sick. Then, I'd see others do it and I'd feel sorry for them. Next, I'd see it and I'd feel sorry for them and I'd get a bit angry. 

It's progressed. Now, I speak out. 

"Why are you living your life, sacrificing your feelings for this person, who has no control over you, and, is obviously a dick?"

I love laughing at life. People are a riot. Myself included. We're all dumb, clueless cogs in a machine in which we didn't make yet we try like hell to control. 
We haven't a chance to control anything except whether we hit the lid or not when we pee and it doesn't matter if you're male or female. 

There once was a very wise man. 

No one knows exactly who he was. But there was one. 

And there will be another. Maybe it's me. 

Or you. Or if your female, a wise woman. 

In that case, I'm sorry. Please forgive me. Please.