Good day, Sir,
Enjoy it while you can.
Soon it will pass,
And someday you will too.
And may I suggest a morsel of advice:
Use your minutes instead of counting them.
Eventually those minutes will pass into
Hours, into days, and into years.
And perhaps, you might use your life
And make it count.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Friday, January 30, 2009
A Confession
Dear Person two seats away from me,
I think I like you. No, I really like you, like like you. I like the way you sit in class, bored out of your mind, with your sky-blue eyes staring holes into the wall, next to the professor, not at the professor. The way you bounce your pencil on your desk is like a symphony to me. Every time you flip your golden hair out of your face I can't help but notice. That bored sigh that escapes your frowning lips often distracts me from whatever the Professor's talking about today.
I wish I could tell you this face to face, but the half-asleep look on your face overwhelms me any time I step closer to you. Just one shake of your head makes me think you hate me, but I know that can't be true. The smile on your face the other day told me you like me too, like like me. So...want to write back to me sometime? My friends say I'm a pretty good conversationalist.
Sincerely yours (I hope)
Your secret admirer
I think I like you. No, I really like you, like like you. I like the way you sit in class, bored out of your mind, with your sky-blue eyes staring holes into the wall, next to the professor, not at the professor. The way you bounce your pencil on your desk is like a symphony to me. Every time you flip your golden hair out of your face I can't help but notice. That bored sigh that escapes your frowning lips often distracts me from whatever the Professor's talking about today.
I wish I could tell you this face to face, but the half-asleep look on your face overwhelms me any time I step closer to you. Just one shake of your head makes me think you hate me, but I know that can't be true. The smile on your face the other day told me you like me too, like like me. So...want to write back to me sometime? My friends say I'm a pretty good conversationalist.
Sincerely yours (I hope)
Your secret admirer
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Inequality
From my first heartbeat
I wanted to see the leaves on the trees
Up close, close enough to smell.
Instead I watch them through
The clouds, from far away.
I guess you can't understand,
Won't understand,
Until you see the trees
Through the clouds
Yourself.
Even then, how can I explain
The lack, the want, the need
To someone who has always
Had, and who
Threw away.
I wanted to see the leaves on the trees
Up close, close enough to smell.
Instead I watch them through
The clouds, from far away.
I guess you can't understand,
Won't understand,
Until you see the trees
Through the clouds
Yourself.
Even then, how can I explain
The lack, the want, the need
To someone who has always
Had, and who
Threw away.
Friday, January 23, 2009
An Odyssey in Drabbles Part III
(This drabble continues a story about a disgruntled customer seeking to retrieve his computer from repair, which can be found here: http://fortyfifthparadox.com/?p=163
It took me long enough to find the warehouse. Well, of course it wouldn't have taken me long if I had gone there directly, but that's rather hard to accomplish when one has to hitchhike his way there. Glancing ruefully up at the two story building, I wondered if my computer would have already been sent home by now. My stomach growled slightly, and I tried once again to quell the pain with a stick of gum. As usual, it only made me thirsty. Even the Cyclops's food hadn't lasted me long.
I stepped inside the door, not sure how else to enter the building. Walking up to the front desk, I found it empty. Curious, I went behind the desk, typing on the computer, locked out. Staying close to the wall, I glanced through the glass doors to the hallway beyond. Past the glass, the halls hadn't been cleaned as well, had cheep fluorescent lights instead of soft-lit lamps. The walls hadn't been painted beyond white, and the doors had been made with wood instead of glass.
After I stepped into the hall, I realized I had no shadows to hide in. I moved quickly, pointedly attempting to act like an employee at the same time. It didn't occur to me then how ridiculous it would be for a bearded, ragged man to show up to work without showering first. Finally at the end of the hall, I found a door. Leaning against it, I listened. On the other side I could hear men talking, laughing, and arguing. I peeked through the narrow rectangular window in the door, and gasped.
At the other side of the room, I could see my red laptop, Penelope. Employees surrounded her, debating who should take it home. I wondered if they fixed it or not yet as I carefully turned the knob. I planned on running and grabbing my computer, but Fate had different plans. My foot landed on a wayward wheeled cart. sending me skittering across the room. Some of the employees tried to block my path, but the momentum on the concrete floor barreled them out of the way.
Tumbling over the last, I lunged for my computer. Nabbing the computer and the notorious wooden cart, we slid out of the room together, into the hall, through the reception room, and out the door. I finally had Penelope back, but had no way to charge her battery.
It took me long enough to find the warehouse. Well, of course it wouldn't have taken me long if I had gone there directly, but that's rather hard to accomplish when one has to hitchhike his way there. Glancing ruefully up at the two story building, I wondered if my computer would have already been sent home by now. My stomach growled slightly, and I tried once again to quell the pain with a stick of gum. As usual, it only made me thirsty. Even the Cyclops's food hadn't lasted me long.
I stepped inside the door, not sure how else to enter the building. Walking up to the front desk, I found it empty. Curious, I went behind the desk, typing on the computer, locked out. Staying close to the wall, I glanced through the glass doors to the hallway beyond. Past the glass, the halls hadn't been cleaned as well, had cheep fluorescent lights instead of soft-lit lamps. The walls hadn't been painted beyond white, and the doors had been made with wood instead of glass.
After I stepped into the hall, I realized I had no shadows to hide in. I moved quickly, pointedly attempting to act like an employee at the same time. It didn't occur to me then how ridiculous it would be for a bearded, ragged man to show up to work without showering first. Finally at the end of the hall, I found a door. Leaning against it, I listened. On the other side I could hear men talking, laughing, and arguing. I peeked through the narrow rectangular window in the door, and gasped.
At the other side of the room, I could see my red laptop, Penelope. Employees surrounded her, debating who should take it home. I wondered if they fixed it or not yet as I carefully turned the knob. I planned on running and grabbing my computer, but Fate had different plans. My foot landed on a wayward wheeled cart. sending me skittering across the room. Some of the employees tried to block my path, but the momentum on the concrete floor barreled them out of the way.
Tumbling over the last, I lunged for my computer. Nabbing the computer and the notorious wooden cart, we slid out of the room together, into the hall, through the reception room, and out the door. I finally had Penelope back, but had no way to charge her battery.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Box of Tears
Here's a guest post by my friend and fellow writer, Stephen J. Brown. You can find his blog here: http://blog.stephenjbrown.com/ I'll be back next week after a crazy weekend of mime-training and a full week of class.
O box of tears
And all my fears,
Don't ever open.
Don't ever, ever open.
I'll make my deposit,
And lock you up tight.
I'll set you up right
In my closet.
When I get restless,
I'll open the door
To admire you more.
In a wink, you remind me
That you are still there.
But please don't remind me
Of what you contain.
You remain
My favorite box
To put things in.
But is it a sin
To say having is painful?
I feel much more happy when I am without.
So do me a favor,
You're such a lifesaver,
And make sure they never come out.
So now, I shut the door,
O box of tears,
Don't ever open anymore.
O box of tears
And all my fears,
Don't ever open.
Don't ever, ever open.
I'll make my deposit,
And lock you up tight.
I'll set you up right
In my closet.
When I get restless,
I'll open the door
To admire you more.
In a wink, you remind me
That you are still there.
But please don't remind me
Of what you contain.
You remain
My favorite box
To put things in.
But is it a sin
To say having is painful?
I feel much more happy when I am without.
So do me a favor,
You're such a lifesaver,
And make sure they never come out.
So now, I shut the door,
O box of tears,
Don't ever open anymore.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
An Odyssey In Drabbles Part II
(This drabble continues a story about a disgruntled customer seeking to retrieve his computer from repair, which can be found here: http://fortyfifthparadox.com/?p=151
I sat in the airport trapped for hours, until cunning businessmen began to take advantage of the storm. Right and left, preying about the swarms of airline passengers like wolves in a chicken coop, men and women proffered their signs, offering rides to the nearest blizzard-free airport. Likewise the stranded passengers rushed the drivers like gnats to a lamp on a summer night. My eyes settled on the nearest driver, and I moved as quickly as I could to a man taller than most cloaked in a long coat and long brimmed hat.
It didn't strike me at first that I couldn't see his eyes. I followed him out the doors to a newly cleared path to the parking garage, and we held eachothers arms that held our suitcases as the wind threatened to blow us over. Past shivering, past shaking, we stood numb as he unlocked his van and opened the doors for us. We shuffled inside and sat down, handing him our money and our blind trust that he would lead us to part of the way home.
None of us spoke much on the ride to the other airport. We sat, rubbing our hands together, too impatient to wait for the heaters in the van to thaw out our frozen meat. The driver, who introduced himself Poly Femus, gave each of us a sandwich, soda, and chips to eat, and played upbeat songs on his stereo. Finally blissfully warm, we settled our seats, barely able to keep our eyes open. One by one we each succumbed to sleep, and as my eyes closed I glanced at a rear view mirror and saw a single eye underneath the driver's hat.
I awoke alone in the van, save for the driver. Taking a deep breath of awakening air, I wretched at the coppery smell of blood. A brief glance about the van revealed the streaked seats and a lonely hand leaning precariously out the van door. Clearing his throat, the driver removed his hat, and my eyes confirmed what they had seen before...a rather human-looking cyclops. He asked for my name, and I told him I was no one. Poly Femus seemed rather sastified with that answer, as he licked his lips.
Something about him screeched more thirsty than hungry, I offered to share a soda with him as he digested my fellow passengers. We sat across from eachother, only a console and some seats seperating Poly Femus from his third course. I turned up the heat, offering him a candy bar and some crackers. The cyclops glanced at me suspiciously, munching on the offered junk food, listening to the radio. After some idle chatter I offered him more food, especially more sugar. Within minutes I had closed the van doors, letting it heat up the interior like an oven.
Finally, Poly Femus's eyes began to drift closed, and I bolted from the van.
I sat in the airport trapped for hours, until cunning businessmen began to take advantage of the storm. Right and left, preying about the swarms of airline passengers like wolves in a chicken coop, men and women proffered their signs, offering rides to the nearest blizzard-free airport. Likewise the stranded passengers rushed the drivers like gnats to a lamp on a summer night. My eyes settled on the nearest driver, and I moved as quickly as I could to a man taller than most cloaked in a long coat and long brimmed hat.
It didn't strike me at first that I couldn't see his eyes. I followed him out the doors to a newly cleared path to the parking garage, and we held eachothers arms that held our suitcases as the wind threatened to blow us over. Past shivering, past shaking, we stood numb as he unlocked his van and opened the doors for us. We shuffled inside and sat down, handing him our money and our blind trust that he would lead us to part of the way home.
None of us spoke much on the ride to the other airport. We sat, rubbing our hands together, too impatient to wait for the heaters in the van to thaw out our frozen meat. The driver, who introduced himself Poly Femus, gave each of us a sandwich, soda, and chips to eat, and played upbeat songs on his stereo. Finally blissfully warm, we settled our seats, barely able to keep our eyes open. One by one we each succumbed to sleep, and as my eyes closed I glanced at a rear view mirror and saw a single eye underneath the driver's hat.
I awoke alone in the van, save for the driver. Taking a deep breath of awakening air, I wretched at the coppery smell of blood. A brief glance about the van revealed the streaked seats and a lonely hand leaning precariously out the van door. Clearing his throat, the driver removed his hat, and my eyes confirmed what they had seen before...a rather human-looking cyclops. He asked for my name, and I told him I was no one. Poly Femus seemed rather sastified with that answer, as he licked his lips.
Something about him screeched more thirsty than hungry, I offered to share a soda with him as he digested my fellow passengers. We sat across from eachother, only a console and some seats seperating Poly Femus from his third course. I turned up the heat, offering him a candy bar and some crackers. The cyclops glanced at me suspiciously, munching on the offered junk food, listening to the radio. After some idle chatter I offered him more food, especially more sugar. Within minutes I had closed the van doors, letting it heat up the interior like an oven.
Finally, Poly Femus's eyes began to drift closed, and I bolted from the van.
Friday, January 9, 2009
An Odyssey In Drabbles Part I
(This story follows a certain letter from an unhappy customer, which can be found here: http://fortyfifthparadox.com/?p=149
The journey began easily enough. It didn't end so easily. I drove from my home to the airport, parked my car, and headed to the terminal. As I sat in my chair, my cushy-yet-still-uncomfortable chair, I saw the worst happen. Just outside the windows the world had gone white. Not that it had ceased to exist or anything, but that a blizzard had fell upon the airport. My head jerked towards the flight status sign, seeing city after green city turn red. Time slowed as the the light changed on my destination, and the word seemed stuck at an angle, halfway between delayed and canceled. I swallowed deeply.
Canceled.
Without thinking, I ran back out of the airport to my car. More white barred my way to the parking garage, along with freshly unrolled caution tape. My pulse quickened its pace faster than a plane down a clean runway. I punched numbers on my cell phone, only to find the signal dead. And all I wanted to do was pick up my computer. It sounded a bit more sane at the time, but I wondered if the manufacturer had caused the storm....
The journey began easily enough. It didn't end so easily. I drove from my home to the airport, parked my car, and headed to the terminal. As I sat in my chair, my cushy-yet-still-uncomfortable chair, I saw the worst happen. Just outside the windows the world had gone white. Not that it had ceased to exist or anything, but that a blizzard had fell upon the airport. My head jerked towards the flight status sign, seeing city after green city turn red. Time slowed as the the light changed on my destination, and the word seemed stuck at an angle, halfway between delayed and canceled. I swallowed deeply.
Canceled.
Without thinking, I ran back out of the airport to my car. More white barred my way to the parking garage, along with freshly unrolled caution tape. My pulse quickened its pace faster than a plane down a clean runway. I punched numbers on my cell phone, only to find the signal dead. And all I wanted to do was pick up my computer. It sounded a bit more sane at the time, but I wondered if the manufacturer had caused the storm....
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Seven A.M.
The alarm sleeps,
With only an orange eye cracked open,
As it relays passing moments and dreams.
Ink inside blinks
Numbers tiredly,
Another eye steadily opens....
Then closes.
Arms writhe, dragging themselves
Across unmade bedsheets
Fighting to awake the connected body
Dark sleep holds on tighter,
Not yet ready to release its willing
Prisoner.
With only an orange eye cracked open,
As it relays passing moments and dreams.
Ink inside blinks
Numbers tiredly,
Another eye steadily opens....
Then closes.
Arms writhe, dragging themselves
Across unmade bedsheets
Fighting to awake the connected body
Dark sleep holds on tighter,
Not yet ready to release its willing
Prisoner.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
A Letter to Customer Service
Dear Customer Service,
About two weeks ago I sent to you my computer. I want it back. If you don't send my computer back to me soon, I'll come for it myself. Thank you for providing your mailing address which happens to match the address to your corporate headquarters and your warehouse. Consider this letter your warning: I'm on my way, and I'm a very dissatisfied customer.
Soon to be your uninvited guest:
The Owner of the Red Dell Laptop
About two weeks ago I sent to you my computer. I want it back. If you don't send my computer back to me soon, I'll come for it myself. Thank you for providing your mailing address which happens to match the address to your corporate headquarters and your warehouse. Consider this letter your warning: I'm on my way, and I'm a very dissatisfied customer.
Soon to be your uninvited guest:
The Owner of the Red Dell Laptop
Friday, January 2, 2009
Love
Love.
When the tailgaters pass by so fast
They splash your windshield with water,
When you can’t sleep because of the noise
In the kitchen and the living room,
When the car in front of you takes
The last parking spot,
When your friends seem to forget
You’re sitting right next to them with they speak,
When you’re trying to sleep on a mission trip
And the teens next to you whisper so loudly
They scratch holes in the sleeping bags,
When the season finale of your favorite show
Mysteriously vanishes from the DVR,
When every car in front of you drags its way
Down the road, and all you want
Is to get home five minutes faster.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
A Not So Fond Farewell
Dear Father Time,
After all the wonder-filled months I have spent at your company, today I must bid 'farewell.' Do not misunderstand me, Father, I have enjoyed my part as the year 2008. I have seen a black man become president, a woman run for vice president for the Republican Party, and an Oregonian turning in their plastic water bottles for a five cent refund.
In spite of the wonderful things I have witnessed, I have also beheld things that could only age me faster. I have seen famine, hardship, apathy, and utter hate. Over my time as the year 2008, I have witnessed wars breaking out, people rejecting other people solely based on differing political beliefs, and drivers passing homeless people on the streets without a second glance.
By the time my replacement shows, I will have aged past my due. Please give 2009 my warm wishes, my crossed fingers, and my parting words; he will need all three to survive his career. I foresee a tough time ahead, but I rest assured that the year 2009 will rise to the occasion.
Sincerely yours,
2008
After all the wonder-filled months I have spent at your company, today I must bid 'farewell.' Do not misunderstand me, Father, I have enjoyed my part as the year 2008. I have seen a black man become president, a woman run for vice president for the Republican Party, and an Oregonian turning in their plastic water bottles for a five cent refund.
In spite of the wonderful things I have witnessed, I have also beheld things that could only age me faster. I have seen famine, hardship, apathy, and utter hate. Over my time as the year 2008, I have witnessed wars breaking out, people rejecting other people solely based on differing political beliefs, and drivers passing homeless people on the streets without a second glance.
By the time my replacement shows, I will have aged past my due. Please give 2009 my warm wishes, my crossed fingers, and my parting words; he will need all three to survive his career. I foresee a tough time ahead, but I rest assured that the year 2009 will rise to the occasion.
Sincerely yours,
2008
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