little blessings

This dried-out magic marker of life,
too long kept in a drawer,
unused and forgotten,
it captivates me now
to find it still has
a spark of color
remaining.

Progressive Illness

My swallow goes down tersely,

concern beckons

Lymph nodes swollen as teenage importance,

hard and unforgiving as Ann Coulter's face,

My neck was stiff yesterday as I recall

I smelled mildew when I entered the trailer;

a leak in the wall? 

Black Mold

Months-long breathing in deeply at night

my already-embattled lungs absorbing disease

Bronchogenic carcinoma? 

What's the one on the TV lawyer ad?

My heart's beating too damned fast

Can't get stressed and have a stroke

Maybe the lymphs are stress-related

Too much adrenal release

Maybe hyper-thyroid disease

Is it iodine that treats that

or is it caused by overabundance of iodine?

Did I take an aspirin today?

The cancer may be spreading while I sit here

Probably on my brain stem already

Been having headaches lately

Stiffness in joints

That cough at night may be from the toxic mold

You know the house insurance won't pay

That manufacturer didn't build this place right

I know it's going to be a battle

Should have gotten personal medical

I don't know with what?

They don't take 'good looks' as payment,

I won't have them much longer anyway.
You know all insurance does is deny you

Wait for you give up or die..why would I want that hassle?

Good doctor's too far away anyway

Nothing good in this town

Won't be long til everybody is gone

A specialist wouldn't be covered I bet

I really hate being sick

I don't want to be debilitated

There's no one to stay with me

How would I get things done?

Incapacitated, but not crippled I hope

Dying alone

No will needed; nothing to leave

Empty funeral parlor

Pine Box, unmarked grave

hmmm.

Had lots of processed food today

Maybe I just need to drink more water.

SONGS FOR AVOIDING/OWNING A BROKEN HEART

today
is just an average day
certainly not an engaging
or arresting day
in any kind of way


merely the day
for you and your new friend
to rendezvous around the bend
such plenteous time to spend
your most precious gift


attention without end
...well, for some--it depends


your latest obsession
walks like a duck
and talks like a duck
your honor there's nothing going on
i'm only now trusting instinct


you don't see what's
presented in your face
indulging me like a disgrace
casually you reiterated his name
your excitement for me a losing game


your betrayal and my
affected nature both a shame


(don't dwell on it)
(don't look at that slow-ass clock)
(don't drive by)
(don't check e-mail again)
(don't call him on the phone)


stay in my house smartly
i wonder what they talk about
will the door stay open
when they gather alone tonight?
best that i not know


must find something to do
something not involving you


try not to take it personally
it's just another devotee
who'll have to demure and scrape
on bended knee
to fluff the master's ego
and keep him in company


where are they now?
it's neither here nor there
your life triumphs without me
i must learn not to care
wish i had your savoir-faire


nobody wants to be treated like a
number/project/quota/obligation


were you heedless of your assault?
either cruel beyond compare
or too uninvolved to care
either way I'm through
been replaced by model improved and new
i'm getting perspective and a clue

"WHAT IF?" starring Elena Kagan and Bill O'Reilly

                               
 

SCENE: The Fox Noose Room, 2 seconds to air time, as 
Supreme Court Justice nominee (and Solicitor General) Elena
Kagan readies to appear on Bill O'Reilly's Fear Factor TV 'ho.

CREW MAN: "...two...one.."

BILL: "I'm here trying to find out exactly what new Obama-plan
we'll be seeing promoted from the socialist party nominee Ms.
Kagan, here. It is MIZZ Kagan, is it not?"


ELENA: "Some people on the earth feel that alternate views don't
have to be scary things. Some might even consider that it is the
silencing of alternate views which is truly scary."


BILL: "What the hell kind--are you even speaking English?
DO you speak English? I don't know what kind of name
Kagan is, but it makes me want to get my spare sheets out of
the closet. That was all just more confirmed liberal gobbledy-gook."

ELENA: Squelching my right to disagree --or promote another
idea--is not unity...it's tyranny. Why are you so afraid of other
people, Bill? Are you that insecure in your beliefs? My position
is that of accepting all people, so understand that you will always
have a space at the table. No one is trying to take anything away
from you."

BILL: "See? See? You just admitted that more and more illegals
will come across the border and rape my kids if another Obama
appointee is brought in the back door. That's what you do...you
liberals with your secrets and your crazy voodoo thinking."

ELENA: "I don't know why you're getting so loud, Bill. It doesn't
make a point more clear, even if it were to have started off clear.
Or logical. Volume doesn't make my points wrong. It doesn't make
me go away. Were you bullied as a child, Bill? Or do you simply
a showman, not even believing the divisive rhetoric you spew? I
hope that's the case."


BILL: "How dare you, Hare Krishna Jew-bait whore of Babylon,
question my almighty God while I am waving this flag called freedom
of the press! How DARE you even breathe the same oxygen that
my inspirational and Jesus-filled holiness requires! Your existence is
an outrage. You're crazy....I think you need to be taught a lesson!"

(Bill leaps up in a rage, reaches out with an open hand, 
attempting to slap Elena. Slowly, Matrix-style, she weaves 
backwards in the chair, avoiding the sloppy lob. As Bill 
completes his swing and returns to his side of the desk, 
Elena springs forward to action.She takes hold of Bill's 
outstretched hand, jerks him forward across the desk, 
bends his arm behind his back, and slams his potato head down
on the desk hard. Gasps are audible from the crew.)

BILL: " Security! Security! I give the command..take the kill shot.
Take it! Get her! I was ambushed. They don't fight fair. Assault!"

(Elena leans in very closely and calmly to the still-pinned 
Bill and begins to speak just above a whisper.)

ELENA: "You, sir, are not a patriot, even in any fevered or
diseased sense of the word. You are a terrorist. A parasite.
A danger. A fraud. A psychotic. A pussy.And you're evil.
Satan has more than just his hand up your ass, Puppet Boy.
Now sit down, shut your over utilized pie-hole, calm down,
and act civilized, or me and the Justice Department are going
to release the FBI photos we pulled off your private computer
of the very, very young girls you like to dream about.....
and your bullshit career will be officially over. Capiche?"

(Bill, noticeably shaken, jerks off his release from Elena, 
stands up and adjusts his tie and pretends to hand-form 
his side-hair. He tries his best to look sufficiently indignant 
and regain his faux potency. He sits back in his chair 
and settles, clearing his throat.)

BILL: "I'm sorry you had to see that, audience. But now you
know the true threat posed by the liberal thought police. An
unprovoked attack here on the air."

ELENA: "Bill...."

BILL: "Well...can I at least get my pictures back? I don't have
any dignity left to lose, but can't you allow me my hard drive?"

Rebel (Primal) Yell

Sure you right, We like to
talk the smack around here,
long as no one returns the favor;
a double standard is twice as good.

We wanna have our Moon Pie
and eat it too,
Pretend to be sweet, but
when you leave shout 'Jiggaboo.'

We'll engage in criminal activity
worse than those we condemn,
but it's all good
long as you smile and add "Amen!"

We pick and we choose,
we pick and we grin,
there t'ain't never wrong-doing
so long as you pretend.

(And we know how
to keep our mouths
pure-deluxe shut about it,
by God!)

Plastic dashboard whitebread Jesus,
painted plaster lawn jockeys,
American flags made in Japan,
Confederate flag vanity plate.

Illegal fireworks flaring, blaring,
food scrap yard-depositories,
littering as a pass-time,
every piece of trash is treasure.


Let someone else 
clean up my mess,
I'm busy ignoring it
cuz I don't like duress.

Shamelessness is a full-time job;
self-control and self-respect
merely afterthoughts or
character defect.

'Southern pride' is
wiping your ass with reality,
and then complaining
that it showed up looking shitty.

We'll cut a deal in every
venue and medium--
except truth;
(there's not rightly a profit innit.)

Graduation Day

You were drawn to my fragility
sponsored nothing but my insanity
now you want to blame me
for my sudden instability

'Saving' me was a good distraction
from your daily woes
Silly me I took it personally
that you were doting on me so

Now you've a shiny new 'friend'
whose mind and will you'd like to bend
in efforts to assert your infallibility
and simultaneously be set free

There's a constant chaos effect
surrounding your posturing logic
a come hither/give nether
command of limbo, absolutely

Raggedly conflicting
out-of-context
heresy in dis joint
(it's not a paradox just cause
you'd like it to be
mein Hauptmann)

I discovered enough
got a smidgen of faith
a little confidence to be sure
(that's a no-no du jour)
now my blindfold's debunked
I feel like I been punk'd

Free-style Walkabout

(Stream of consciousness crosses

a walk in the park!)

I really need
to stretch first
I'll feel better
My God the humidity.
Isn't that a bitch?
Even an
agnostic is so
brainwashed
they can't get rid of
'God'
speak and concepts
in their head.
I know the gnats
will be bad.
They are
when it's this moist
What's the difference
I wonder?

I don't mind the heat or cold
or rain
or stench
or noise
or crowds
(well maybe crowds--
but I'd still walk)
nor cramps
or stomach pain
but I cannot abide
a thing flying
into my eye-ball
a million times a minute.
Into my nose,
my ears,
oh wait I have
some Bounce
sheets in the car
and I need
to get my sunglasses anyway
I can't have that blaring sun
in my eyes
on the walk into
the treeline
Is it 'blaring'
or is that for music?
I can never remember
What do I mean?

Why is that guy putting his
side flaps up on that jeep?
The roof is still open
rain can get in...
burglar can get in...
isn't that a waste of time?
He must be military.
Precise
thick
overly muscular
regimented
I need to be like that.
Not completely,
but more so
Whatever happened
to happy mediums?
He probably thinks I like him.
Don't look.
Here for me
not cruising.
Not my type
even for looking.
Does he shave his legs?
That's weird.
Why is that
unnatural look
still so popular?

Just stay steady, slow, easy,
keep pace,
don't think
about how hot it is
keep moving
No need for speed
but I can flex and
loosen shoulders as I lap
Do four laps
is all I need
It's the constant heart rate
not the overdoing it
I seek
It may not help
too much with weight
but my cardio needs
a regular maintenance and
I can start simply
It's the journey
not the destination
right?

I wonder if
I'll run into
my friend's wife again?
I hope not...she's nice
but that was
uncomfortable
nothing against her it
just was weird
I don't even know
that he's my friend 
frenemy
acquaintance..who knows
I don't understand
people or motives
or anything
I wonder what she
thought of me?
Why do I
worry about that
in the first place?
What is my fascination,
with the details of such
things? Obsessiveness?
Alcoholism?
Codependency?
Writer? Nut?
Insecurity?

That same  worker is here
every morning
I wonder how that
makes him feel to have
to work it all by himself?
Is his coworker late?
Sick?
Is he expected to do
the work by himself
and then
someone else gets the credit?
That would fit.
I really need to be rich so
I don't have to worry
about such things any longer
and I could also buy
an indoor track
with air conditioning
so this bullshit
wouldn't be so hard
Why is there sweat?
Why are there gnats?
What the hell
is the purpose of a mosquito?
I don't have a need
for any of those things.

Does that tie
into the fact that
we live in a sense
of perpetual
dealing with things
not of our liking,
that this is a
valley of tears,
we have to deal
with obstacles
and injustice
and hardships
and heartaches
I actually feel good today
let's not
get off on a tangent
Why question and worry
and be all maudlin
I can be happy if I
choose to be I suppose
The less you look at it
the better it appears
I guess that kind of
makes me screwed cuz
I want
to tear it all down
as a writer
and see
what makes it tick
It's a calling
but I also intend
to feed myself
with my talent
I for damned sure can't work
for anyone else
What am I going to do
about a job?

Does that guy think
I'm looking at him?
I don't
want to change how I act
just to attempt
to accommodate
a nonexistent situation but
I don't want
to get beat up either
just cuz Buford thinks he's
eye-worthy which he isn't
How bad would that suck
if a guy got violent because
he was homophobic but
I wasn't even attracted to him?
That would be about right?
Why am I not attracted?
Maybe that's how
people think about me;
dismiss me
based on the superficial and
not look through
to the real stuff and not
be interested if you don't
show up on their radar straight off
Isn't that sad
that we're so tied
up in image and interpretation
and how do we get beyond it;
Maybe it works on a larger scale?
Maybe that's race relations,
homophobia, battle of the sexes, and
xenophobia all wrapped up...
we don't care to see
what's outside our scope
don't have the energy or interest to try
We're more satisfied
with difficulty
than the idea of changing
what we know

I hate shin splints
even when I stretch
I get them
why is that
the most overworked
part of my body?
I should be having
fucking head splints
and nerve splints
i wonder if
I'm doing it wrong?
It's hard
I need the consistency
of concrete but it is
hard on my joints and heels
our bodies aren't meant to
withstand it
There's no pool around here
that would be ideal
The Y has one but
I can't afford that
even with a poverty voucher
or whatever they call it
and I would have to have gas
to drive it
If I had
a physical job
like construction
or some such
I could get paid
to have my workout
and stay in shape by proxy
(default? chance? what?)
but I would not have to
worry about gyms or health care
cuz I would stroke out
from the heat and exhaustion
and make it all moot
Maybe
they would let me
work the
hours I wanted like
maybe 3 am to 10 am,
which I guess they do
cuz I used
to see road crews
in Tampa all the time
but not here
would they start?
I wonder who you have
to screw around here to
get a job with the
city or the county?
If I acted like a racist dip shit
and scratched my nuts in public,
would they let me in?
I could talk about
Glen Beck being smart
for a few hours a day...
get a good laugh
on the inside
probably get
more dick that way
Ernesta says I don't get
as much as I could
because I'm too strident
and won't let up
on the politics,
need to let go of the
posturing and relax
but then he also says
to get what I want
I need to start being bold
asking people
point blank if they want
to fool around is the only way
to separate wheat from chaff
but I say that gets my head
separated from my body
what's the difference
I have no life anyway
but it's the difference
between being attacked
and losing face or
being secure
age old question
what's more important
the possibility of getting
what you want or the security
of keeping
what you don't want
known, unknown

Lots of guys look
you know lots consider
but what will happen if
you attempt to further it
into the realm of actuality
Do they worry
over being seen
with you and freak out
Do they secretly like it
but get indignant in public
Will they hurt you
to cover their feelings
Will they defame you
to throw suspicion
and ruin you for anyone...
or will spreading the news
be free advertising
for someone wiling?
maybe

DAMN I need to get laid
Hand jobs and fantasies
are not cutting it
Maybe if I weren't
quite so obsessed
I could get work done
or maybe if I got laid I
could stop obsessing
or maybe if I focused on work
I wouldn't have time
for sex thoughts
maybe it's the desperation
throwing people off
If I pretended like
I don't care
I could score
guys love a challenge
they hate what's readily available
I need to go to Tallahassee
Craig's list was a disaster
made me almost turn straight
well, decide to remain celibate
anyway
let's not get
carried away
I could get free snatch
all day and all night
if I wanted it
but lack of dick
has not created
a push for pussy
Every friend I've ever had
before this last year
has been someone
who wants me
What does that say
about me that the only people
who spend time with me
are frustrated stalkers
like me
Why can't i get laid
it's frustrating

If this is what it's like
at age 41
with decent looks
and okay body
what'll it be like
as I decline?
Jesus now I'm really depressed
so depressed I'd call
on fictional characters again
well Jesus was real
on the earth
it's just the floating
through the heavens
and eradicating space demons
and shit that's sci-fi
or was that
L Ron Hubbard's
Xenon shit
who knows it's all
whack-a-doodle
why is everyone
obsessed with knowing?
it's cosmic
it isn't for human minds
to comprehend
It's too much
too heady
too crazy
I guess that explains
the appeal of
easy-bake religion
add faith instant explanation
dogma inspires simplicity
where none exists
craziness just let it be
all this intimidation
and moralizing
why is everything so hard

You know who I bet
is great in bed
that crazy leader
of Scientology
that Tommy guy
he's closeted but
I know nutballs are
hot in bed
they have no inhibitions
Maybe I could go
to California and
infiltrate the compound
and pretend to be
part of them and get close
I could do an expose
on the cult and
suck some cock
at the same time
win-win finally
but what if they find out
and kill me or
worse drug me
and discredit me
Can I be further discredited?
sure why not
things can always get worse
Is that 3 laps or 4?
somehow I lost count.

Double standards are not 'Twice as Nice'

I'm overlooked for the 'cleansing process'

because my temple makes
the Weather Girls look like rail-thin waifs;
It's surely inclement climates after the ball
I have no cred in the not-so-gay
non-community, politicized with
Sizeist, ageist, racist, classist bastards.

Only a carbon copy, a clone of the me
I hope to be can aspire me to see
I'm worthy of the devotion never-found
Never-landing Peter Pan flying high, unsound
ricocheting insults and brandishing
bitchiness as shadows of assuredness
poor replacements for real common ground.

Self-hate looms large
in-and-out of the closet--
the down-low boys seek
the same 'sameness' as you,
so that the fret and threat of exposure
hangs over your fuck buddy's reality too,
cementing both in clustered shame and remorse
hope he's hung like a horse.

Wherefore art thyself?

Consideration is given to top appearance, imagery supreme,
content and independence is a problem unforeseen,
these days it's still tiresome uniformity
not unity that binds the seams--
difference is considered disability
not the stuff of dreams.

It's the promotion, the assertion,the fiction that matters,
the truth is simply an annoyance that natters.
'Ex-gays' engaged in an orgy of undercover lust
released in a flurry of self-loathing acclimation.
smiles and wiles are used to maintain the picket fence profiles
that have bastardized this nation
partial acceptance makes self-betrayal worthwhile.

The tapestry is unspun before it's begun
All men's deprived true beastly nature howling wrathfully
until lungs putrefy and cocks shrivel
and hearts become stone, gut bloated with anxiety and fear
deathbed confessions of desires lost most dear
If only I had lived sincere.

You say "Obsession" like it's a bad thing

Carefully worded, meticulously herded,
these gift-words parlay a wealth of information
as well as knowledge.

Not everyone is fortunate enough to be
considered stalk-worthy; truly it is a blessing
of some consideration.

The intent is not to perturb or disturb;
the effort to adore made in spite of your protestations,
not to spite you.

No, these adornments are not to deride and lambaste,
but in spite of upset that surely won't last..
a true friend and confidant tells of spinach on teeth,
that trouble is lurking underneath,
expects you not to bequeath
anything.

Being unpopularly criticized and misunderstood
is part of the package, the parlance, the practice
of being celibately disadvantaged
in the town of Platonica,
population-- One unwilling citizen,
awaiting.

Agape's just another word for something left to prove,
and while you worry about 'too much'
I obsess it was 'too little'...
I only have a short time to give myself away;
my truth is outspoken crazy devoted
hopeless.

What To Do?!

---

scattered and shattered
one hundred separate ways
constant daze
despair stays
eyes' presumed-permanent glaze
torturous malaise

far short of fame
floundering, uncertain;
flailing, failing at the game
no second-place prize
just unrelenting shame
no one but me to blame

'Quit lying down'
'Get rid of that frown'
'Get out; Head downtown'
'Dress up in a gown'
'Act like a clown'...
treatment and disease
blow chunks equally

  -----------------------------------------------------------------------------

FIGHTIN' WORDS

Seth: "All I know is that every time I say anything about my stuff,
you show no interest...or maybe even condemn it!"

Roger: "I sound like a horrible person; I can't imagine why you
bother with me!"

Seth: "Save the false-immodesty; I know your game. Look, point is
I need support, too. It can't all be one-sided!"

Roger: "What do you want? Every time you do something, I throw a parade?"

Seth: "Screw you. You might as well have yawned and looked at your
watch when I was telling you about the most important piece of
information ever regarding my career! You acted like I was crazy
to be excited...you changed the subject as soon as I finished talking!"

Roger: "I didn't know it was some big deal; I assumed you were finished and
that was the end of it. Sometimes you kind of ramble...I never really know
when you're through! I don't know what you want from me. I really
don't. I'm sorry, I guess."

Seth: "No you're not. You just think it's the right thing to say. It's my
fault. I know how you are, and I came to you to share this anyway.
I knew better..but I was as excited to share it with you as I was
that it had happened."

Roger: "All you seem to want to do is criticize me. Every time I turn around
you complain about something I do. If I'm so bad, maybe I don't need
to be around people."

Seth: "I give you plenty of praise. Never seems to be enough. In fact,
I think the reason you ignored my advancement is because you can't
stand for anybody else to get even a little bit of attention and spotlight.
I don't take it personally, usually; I know it's just you."

Roger: "See? That thing right there you did! "I'm not really cutting you down,
I'm just speaking plainly." Or "Oh, I don't mean any offense, I'm just
telling you so you know." Baloney! You get off on lobbing these under-handed
complaints and still smelling like a rose."

Seth: "And you can't admit wrong-doing no matter what! You just sit there
looking pretty and wounded, like I imagined the whole incident, and I
ought to feel ashamed for speaking to you so harshly."

Roger: "Well, you've been going on about it for a while now, so surely you feel
like you've milked it for its 15 minutes."

Seth: "You're an arrogant prick! You dismiss me, then act like I'm a dick for
being offended! I think the only reason you keep me around is to fluff your
ego--a thing I excel at. Giving you praise is the only time I speak when
you aren't counting the seconds til you get to speak."

Roger: "I don't think that makes me different from anybody else on the planet. Maybe
if you weren't some hyper-sensitive attention-starved psycho, you'd be okay with
somebody else getting a word in edgewise!"

Seth: "Me?! You're the one with the ginormous ego, buddy! I've even seen you pout
when nobody wanted to continue on one of your conversation topics! You can't
stand to be overlooked! We should all be grateful beyond compare that the mighty
Roger has deigned to share his wisdom with us! Glory Hallelujah!"

Roger: "Well, now that you've had your weekly meltdown, can we just eat dinner in
peace? I'm really sick of fightin'."

Seth: "Enjoy it! That's the last of my home-cooked meals you'll be getting for a
while, turkey! I wouldn't want to waste my breath talking any more anyway. No
point when nobody's listening."

Roger: "Listen, okay...stop. Just stop. Look..I heard a good joke today; let's bury
the hatchet? Here it is; 'Guy says "God is dead--but don't worry: Mary's pregnant
again!"' Pretty cute, eh?"

Seth: "NOW YOU'RE MAKING FUN OF MY RELIGION!?!?!"

(and so it goes.....)

a mother's touch

screeching harpies
pry worth from bone
refuse to atone
maintain heart of stone
smiling all the while

celibate recovery....yeah right!

Let's not pretend
you're being chaste and pure
and giving it up
for Lent or family or honor.
Yours is not a lust-free diet
and the writing is on the walls.
Justified, prepped, scripted,
prearranged, constricted,


If the 'right' smooth young thing
with perfect teeth and hair and manners,
and especially good breeding,
came stomping through
with puppy dog eyes,
needing a strong buddy
to lead him on the 'righteous' path...
you would be on that shit
in a New York minute.


Because you want someone
you can control and manipulate
from Jump Street,
and some little amoeba with yearning for
your 'instructive hand,'
doting and worshipful, adherent,
would be a major hard-on.
Idolatry suits you.


(Conversely, some Daddy-type
who shames and puts you in place
would probably also
set it off for you.
He'd seize control,
let you be the submissive for once,
take the reigns and
let you off the hook
for your secret desires.)


But intimacy is not the key,
to how you want to be set free...
just a random excursion--
a minute or two--
to relinquish your burden
and see you through,
and afterwords you can claim
it wasn't rally 'you;'
A fluke, a lark, a confusion
followed through.


There's a distinct discord between
how you treat those you want close
and those who are already there.
It's the loyal dog that gets kicked,
and the abusive master
whose ass gets licked.


You're not noble...
you just want whatever happens
when you finally do fuck
to be secretive and lurid
so you get more bang for your buck.

strings attached

 

the wisdom of your beam



*************************

confessions

vain imaginings lift you higher
while you say you don't aspire
to a pedestal or respect
dutifully i ask you to reflect
what part did you play?

Big Mack Attack; The Mid-Life Strife

     When Mack strode into a room, he was answered prayer.

His moderate handsomeness was exaggerated by his manly

swagger and confident spark. An affable smile synced with

a teddy bear face and movie star hair, he was the best blend

imaginable.  Simple understated fashionable, ruggedly masculine,

boy-next-door charm, and artistic genius all in one!


     He definitely had a unique and powerful 'something'

that most people desired.  His actual self-concept might

have surprised folks, but his thick exoskeleton of magic

and triumph was sufficient for absorbing most folks.

This was a man of high-concepts and high standards,

given to excellence in all areas of his life; he had not met

a challenge he had not mastered.


     Now in his woefully-named middle life, Mack had become

somewhat obsessed with the idea of perpetuity. He was

more than familiar with his own mortality, and his ripe

imagination gave birth to hypochondria and hysteria that

would have prided Howard Hughes. Every straining flow,

every pre-empted lift, every twinged muscle spelled his

imminent demise in blood-red neon letters.


     Not a man of sentimentality nor wild abandon, the prototypical

hand-wringing or denial-based solutions were of no interest to Mack.

There would be no extra-marital affairs, no expensive sports cars,

no aesthetics-minded operations. He would meet his impending

spiral with steadfast heroism and aplomb. A man's man, both

thinker and doer, stalwart and unflappable. Classy, disciplined, and

devoted; he was a throwback to better days.


     Since his early days, Mack had been confounded by people.

His parents being regular battlers, he held no esteem for

disagreements. Confrontation of any sort or level made his

body seize up with fear. Unknowingly, he had distanced himself

from as many true relations as possible, eliminating the potential

hazard of humanity. The interminable sense of isolation was little

regarded since he maintained a frantic work schedule and

micromanaged every moment of his days. No moss grew beneath him.


     But now, with contemplation and the newly awakening

fore-thought and self-awareness, his thoughts were churned.

Mack braced himself for what felt like a large intestinal

testimony clearing its path through his soul. There were

inner captives, longing to be free; their images were familiar

to Mack, as deja-vu accompanies certain dreams or places.

He and they had passed one another on a journey, long

before, yet simply not taken the time to become acquainted.


     As his job became more and more tedious and unrewarding,

the bravado of seeking something 'more' frightened him less.

There was freedom in the possibility of the oncoming storm of

financial instability. This might well be his chance to strike.

But doubt rotted in his crevices, never having been released

and shown the light of day. There was still comfort in his tired

role of chief-cook-and-bottle-washer for the flailing retail store.

Once a landmark in the community of his youth, it now gasped

and prepared for death rattle.


     The pluses seemed more gracious than the alternative, even

in a back-handed compliment kind of way.  There was the

prestige and impact of having a good name and being well

thought of, but his co-workers and neighbors were not of the

same ilk. That was a hollow victory at best; he was the consummate

big fish in a small bowl. The relaxed scheduling did not offset the

painfully stressful drama of the store when he was present.


     There was ease, too, in planning for greatness from the safety

of a solid desk with dependable pay; striking out --not even considering

making it--was another matter entirely.  An untraveled path is

seductive yet awkward.  Away from the light of the

other journeymen, conditions might be rough. It galled him to admit

his desire to assimilate and be a part of the pack. This dualistic part of his

nature vexed him; to be a lone wolf who longs for human interaction

and connection.


     The ill-timed inner push to experiment struck him as ironic. Now, in

his time of imagined 'settling in,' wanting to upset the apple cart! His

inappropriate sense of humor was triggered, but the dread quickly

squashed it. There was a battle beginning to rage; the illusion of

quiet comfort versus the allure of unsecured promises of fulfillment.

He imagined this was The key moment where he would determine what

comprised his core character.  There was concurrent excitement and

apprehension to see which opponent might appear victorious.


     "Reinvention is a young man's game," he could hear his father

proclaiming. "You'd better be smart and stick to what you know."

The old man meant all the good, but practicality and discipline

were the name of his game, despite his artistic leanings. Mack

accepted that, despite the love and episodic respect, Dad was not

a source oozing support for his son's soulfulness or expressiveness.


     Marianne, too, was a great wife, and fine mother to their kids,

but her outlook would be didactic, at best. Nary an argument had

occurred wherein his needs were considered; it seemed more

and more like life was ongoing penitence for past transgressions.

He longed to be heard...to have someone show concern for his wishes.

He had learned the hard way not to expect such empathy from his wife. 

It would be all about the practicality, the logistics, how her activities

would be impacted, and what potential financial lifestyle changes would

ensue. His sacrifices were a given.


     The home-front situation was a perplexing one at best, anyway.

Certainly the matrimonial relationship had become perfunctory;

more of a business arrangement. Still mandated by choice, not

obligation, but lackluster nonetheless.  The kids were the focus.

They needed and deserved a connection that was unbroken;

consistency and security were so important to a child, as Mack

had long since known. But what if he moved the family, or lost

his shirt, or failed to make a name for himself? He would have

failed the kids and put them through hell for nothing, he mused.


     This was exactly the extremist negative thinking that caused him

such regular agony. As a perfectionist, he typically lost himself in

his work to quiet such thoughts, and counter the notion of feeling

undeserving.  But work held no joy of late....his typically sound

confidence was hollowed by this distraction. This horrible prediction

that he would end up Willy Loman, and there was nothing he could do

to avert this catastrophe. His identity had become firmly entrenched in his

job, his town, his relations. Who would he be, if not who he already

knew?


     Keeping up appearances and attending to usual business is tricky

while likewise training an inner eye heavenward for a

timely cue. Some prophetic sign of promised prosperity, preferably

private.  He had become spiritual over the last stretch, but this

matter weighed extensively and grieved his fledgling faith.  Just how

much blind trust was he to have? And, what if his restlessness was really

his much maligned self-will exerting himself, and not what he was truly

'supposed' to be doing, besides? All of this was quite perplexing;  fate,

divinity, pre-destination, uncertain choices, life.


     Mack was the original "man with the child in his eyes," as Kate Bush

and others had penned. A splendid blend of devoted optimism and

dedicated petulance. A merging of joyful support and scornful

dissatisfaction.  He was easy to fall full-in behind a project at the

expense of all else. Mack was consumed by the idea of being consumed,

and he often found himself knee-deep in a new interest before he

knew his feet were wet.


     These attributes, peripherally known to the hard-working man,

were further cause for struggle. Was this push to 'explore self' some

new-fangled notion directly related to his pending birthday? A

longing for something dramatically representative of a marked

trend in avoiding getting older?  His analytical processing would

relentlessly cross-examine every stray thought, every unrelated

concept, every random occurrence to seek a rationale for his

behavior and development. His hyper-obsessiveness and  attention

to detail--what the kids called 'anal', and Marianne called 'OCD'--

frequently took over. Yet he was also prone to spells of zoning out

completely. Balance was something that had eluded him.


     None knew of his conflicted nature; he was a master of

holding his cards close to his vest. By virtue of smiling sweetly or

becoming steely-eyed and stoic, his impenetrable

armor secured him from inquiry. His masquerade was so

well developed and long held, he became caught up himself at times.


     Hostage to real and imagined limitations, he struggled to maintain

control over his real self. There wasn't means of living freely while

accommodating others. Sacrifices were an inevitable part of a successful

life process, but now he was questioning which sacrifices were

inevitable and which were renegotiable. There was a burgeoning

fire tempting him to transform himself, and feel the sufficiency of his

own skin.


     At heart of this blessed soul was a fierce warrior who had

mastered many obstacles, weathered many storms. He was to be

praised for his ability to survive, and, finally, he was receptive to

this laud. Intuitively, he knew that exceptional things were in store

for him...that his distress was merely growing pains--a trivial

and unavoidable portion of his personal birthing process. Nothing

more than distraction, dilution, and discouragement of his established

capabilities and prowess.


     Mack determined that all would be well, no matter the

specific outcome. He was discovering the value of the journey,

even as preoccupation with destination was waning.

His determination and discipline had made him who he was,

and he proudly recognized it was one aspect of himself he would

be carrying forward with him. The man he was becoming was

illuminated by the sunshine of the mind, and his spirited quest

was only beginning.