Notions of a Simpleton

[yoursoethereal-deactivated20230]

— Haruki Murakami, from Norwegian Wood

[onceuponastarryeye]

interesting dialogue in before sunrise (1995) (4/5)

[kansassire]

Di qiu zui hou de ye wan (Long Day’s Journey Into Night),  2018, Bi Gan

[notionsofasimpleton]

Frozen Bars

There were signs that ran along the walls listing each and every restriction. No jeans. No sweatpants. No shirts with offensive language or explicit pictures, no hats, the list went on. I visited my father for the first time in the summer and was immediately overwhelmed by all the things I couldn’t do. After making the three hour drive with my grandparents, we made our way inside the prison entrance. Families crowded the small waiting room, filling the seats while others placed their belongings in the lockers that lined the walls. In some ways the room reminded me of a school, the white walls and polished floors, but the feeling inside was completely different. I watched as my grandfather took lead and spoke to the woman behind the desk. She looked to be in her early 30s and wore round thick glasses with her hair in a pony tail. She offered him a clipboard with paperwork to be filled out for the three of us. Next, she leaned over and glanced at me, holding her stare for a few moments before she finally spoke,“He won’t be allowed in with those pants”. My grandfather turned around and gave me a look up and down. 

“They’re only jeans.”

“I’m aware sir, but the dress code is very strict and jeans are prohibited.”

My grandfather was a stubborn man in more ways than most, I thought back to all the times he made a scene over the smallest things; being over charged for an item at the grocery store or cut off in traffic. Here though, even he knew there was no getting around such rules and to cause a scene in an unfamiliar place like this for all we knew could land him in a cell right next to my father. He handed back the clipboard and then mumbled  something under his breath in Spanish, what I could only assume was not worth repeating. He then grabbed me by the arm and we began to walk to the exit. When we got back to the car I realized we wouldn’t be visiting my father today. I sat there in the backseat and felt the sweat cling to my shirt, my grandfather had yet to start the car and so we sat there like that until my grandma returned. She walked out a few moments later with a paper in her hand, I thought maybe the lady behind the desk had a change of heart.

“Here’s the dress code for when we come next time, make sure you give it to your mom, okay mijo?”

I took the paper and sat back again. From where we parked you were able to see the large fence, one followed by another, each topped off with barbed wire at the peak. Through the fences you could see the families gathering in the courtyard, small groups surrounding the specks of orange jumpsuits. I remember crying a little in the backseat, such a far drive only to be greeted with rejection.

I didn’t get another chance to visit my father till the following month, it was Sunday morning and I was up by 5 a.m. when my grandfather’s truck was in the driveway. With the sunlight nowhere to be found and my eyes hardly open, I jumped in the back and sunk once again into the seat.

When I woke up it was warmer than before, the sun shined bright through the lightly tinted windows as I squinted my eyes. We were on the road now and from the empty horizon and mountains, I could tell we were at least halfway into the drive. The music was playing something in Spanish, I couldn't understand what was being said, but the sound of the accordion was comforting. I was hungry by now and mentioned this to my grandfather. He said we were almost there and we could eat once we got inside. Eat inside? I sat back confused. Were they feeding prison food to visitors now? In the times that I visited my father previously there were no opportunities to eat. You faced each other through a glass, sitting on a hard plastic chair and spoke through a cold phone that smelled of disinfectant spray. I guess things were different now in this new prison.

When we finally arrived we parked once again across from the 20 foot fences, only this time I knew I would get to be on the other side. Now wearing khaki pants and a navy button up, both of which aligned with the dress code bolded on the paper I was given, I knew they would have to let me in. We got off the car and I heard the sound of change rumbling. My grandfather slung around a hefty cotton bag that looked like it belonged on TV with a green dollar sign on it.

“What’s all that for?”

“For food when we get inside. They have vending machines in the visitation areas.”

Great, we would be filling up on candy bars and Fritos all morning. When we made our way inside my grandfather once again took the clipboard from the lady with the round glasses behind the desk. I wondered if she remembered me from the previous time and waited for her to glance at me and point out my clothes, but this time she never even bothered looking up. I followed my grandfather as we made our way over to the lockers and he had me empty out my pockets. In total I had my Gameboy color, a pack of juicy fruit, and the one key to my house. He then collected my grandmother’s belongings and found a vacant little square at the bottom of the rows, number 243. He opened it and placed everything inside. We found a few seats next to a woman who appeared to be pregnant, she was sitting by herself reading a health magazine. I wondered if it was the father she was visiting. I began to monitor the rest of the room; there were elderly parents, younger adults, some with babies cradled in their arms. All of us waiting for our numbers to be called. 

When it was finally our turn we were directed to a metal detector being overlooked by two officers. Each of us emptied out whatever left we had in our pockets, between the three of us it was only the large sack of change and my grandfather’s unopened pack of Marlboro reds. I was unable to get in with jeans, but his cigarettes were completely acceptable. Once we all made are way through there was a small group of visitors waiting as well. We all gathered together as the officer guided us through the long halls. Everything appeared cold, maybe lifeless was a better word. The officers wore tan colored shirts, the walls painted a light grey, the floors the same polished white in the waiting area, nothing memorable at all.

It was maybe a 5-minute walk that led us outside and into another building. When we got inside it looked like a recreational room. There were round tables throughout with large windows that overlooked the outside area. In the corner of the main room was a desk with an officer behind it. In addition, there were also several other officers in various areas throughout the room. On the opposite side were large glass doors that led outside and from the entrance I could see the metal fences, this time from the inside. When we all got inside the officer who led us there told us the inmates would be in shortly and to have a seat. There were already families together embracing each other, some even playing board games, or outside on the benches. Me and my grandparents found a spot in the middle of the room and took a seat. When we sat down I noticed a long row of vending machines. 

Every couple minutes an inmate would come from the back room, I began to watch the door closely. It made me happy to see the look on each persons’ face who would come out, their eyes would wander the room as they looked for their families, then, they would light up. It was about 10 minutes before my dad finally walked out the same door. As soon as he walked through he had the same old cheesy smile on his face. I noticed he looked a little older than the last time I seen him, which now had been a little over two years. He walked up to the table and gave me a big hug, then my grandma, and finally my grandfather, each of us glossy eyed wondering who would offer the first word. It was my father.

“It’s good to see you son, you’re getting big,” I nodded.

“How was the drive, did you sleep on the way?”

“Yeah, a bit.” 

“Sucks they didn’t let you in last time”

“I know, all over some pants” I said.

We went back and forth like that for a bit, making small talk before we found our usual flow. Then it was like it used to be.

“Too bad the visits have to be so early, they let you bring food in. We could’ve had nana stop and pick up something good”

“A bean burrito?”

“Enchilada style?”

“Yup.” We both laughed.

“They got some pretty good stuff in the vending machines though, lets grab some food.”

My grandfather handed me the bag and we made our way to the vending machines.

“They got everything here, cheeseburgers, pizza, chicken wings, burritos, and of course candy,” he laughed. I looked at all the different items, I didn’t know they sold half of this stuff in vending machines. In all the excitement we hopped from one vending machine to the next, before long each of us had our arms filled. After we heated everything up, we went back to our table. It was odd, I think as far back as I could remember the four of us never had eaten together like this, I wondered if anyone else had the same idea. We talked about all sorts of things and avoided the obvious. I’ve learned when it comes to someone in jail or going to the jail, the elephant that is always in the room is time. When I was younger I never got a straight answer, when I was older, no one wanted to say. Maybe it was different because it was my father.

When we finished eating my father suggested we play a board game. In the corner of the room there was a large pile of boxes, while I went to pick one out he we went outside and had a cigarette with my grandfather. I decided on checkers and my grandmother helped me set up the board. My grandma was never much of a talkative person, she listened quietly, sometimes offering a smile and an occasional input. I watched her fragile hands place the red pieces across the board. She was 10 years my grandfather’s junior, although it didn’t always seem that way. I wasn’t sure if it was more of the way she presented herself or the way my grandfather was always on the move. When she finished she glanced outside watching the two of them sit on the benches and finish their cigarettes, we sat in silence like that until they returned.

My father came back and before we started the game we decided to get some drinks for everyone. There we were again with the large duffle of change. We all decided on cokes, I punched in A4 3 times. On the fourth try the button was stuck. I tried pressing it repeatedly but it wouldn’t nudge. My father noticed my struggle and attempted to help me. “Stand back inmate!”. We both looked over and seen one of the officers glaring at us. “You know you’re not allowed to cross the line”. As he said this he pointed to the ground, I noticed a large yellow line that stretched across all the machines, creating two feet or so of distance. My father stepped back and offered an explanation. The officer wasn’t looking for one. He didn’t say another word and I nervously began smashing multiple buttons, hoping for any drink to fall. I finally managed to get an orange Fanta to drop and we both headed back with the drinks. 

During the whole visit everything slowly felt normal until the encounter with the officer. It put into perspective where we were and the limitations we were given. I passed around the cokes at the table and kept the orange Fanta for myself. Neither me nor my father spoke about the encounter, he shrugged it off and by the time the checkers game started he was back to his normal demeanor and cheesy smile. During the game I couldn’t shake the experience, I understood there were rules, what I couldn’t comprehend was the need to enforce them in such a way. What purpose did it truly serve?

We finished the game in a standoff, before my father ultimately offered me the victory. “Next time I’ll teach you chess,” he said. Visitation was almost over, and my father once again embraced us each individually. When the time was up the three of us sat there sore and glossy-eyed as my father walked through the door. I read the numbers on the back of his jumpsuit hoping to memorize them for a reason I wasn't quite yet sure of.

Past the cold halls and back in waiting area, we retrieved our things from the locker and made our way outside under the summer sun. I didn’t know exactly how to feel about coming here. I walked in feeling excited after the incident with the first visit, but now back on the outside I didn’t know how I felt. I wanted to be strong, to show that this was just apart of life, but the reality was, it wasn’t. I sat there first trying to convince my father, then trying to convince myself. In the end, I don’t think anyone believed things were okay. Instead, we each put on our masks, more for each other than ourselves. After that day I never made the trip again. Summer soon passed and in the fall he was relocated two towns over.

[notionsofasimpleton]

The I-talian Stallion

The first thing I heard was the loud screech and the rocks giving way. In a hurry to see where the noise was coming from I jumped onto the couch and peaked through the curtains. An RV was pulling into our driveway and maneuvering its way to the side of the house. It was an old thing. The paint job looked as if it was white at some point, but was now fading away and with it, the green stripes that once ran along the side.  When the RV turned the corner and flew out of view I hurried off the couch and made my way to the kitchen window. There I was able to see just who was behind the wheel. With a cigarette hanging from his mouth and his arm out the window he began straightening out the tires. When he noticed me my uncle gave me a wave.

It had been a little over a month since he set up tent just on the side of our house. From inside the living room ran a long orange extension cord all the way out to his little RV. I can’t say he ever really came inside much, with the exception of when it was time to eat or he needed a shower. Most of the time he would be camped out in his RV with the screen open and the room dimly lit, the only light coming from the TV set.

In the brief month that he had been staying over I hadn’t gotten to talk to him much, but that all changed in a day. After finishing lunch my grandma asked me to go get my uncle to let him know the food was ready. I ran over to his RV and I could hear the television on full blast. The screen was open and so I walked in. This had been my first time in his RV, I noticed right away the smell of cigarettes. It wasn’t strong, but it lingered. Probably stained to the walls and as a result, trapped in the air. When I found him he was laying on his back with the remote sitting on his chest.

“Lunch is ready, tuna sandwiches.”

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Ok.”

At this point I wasn’t paying much attention to him, my eyes were glued to the small TV set in the corner of the room, a VCR sitting on top with a stack of tapes to go along with. There were two boxers swinging vigorously at each other. One was a tall blonde man that filled up the screen. He shadowed the other fighter with not only his body but his fists. Each time he connected the other fighter bounced from one side of the ring to the next, you could hear the punches echoing through the speakers. “Who are those guys?” I asked. My uncle turned his focus toward me. 

“You’ve never seen Rocky?”

“Nope.”

“ The I-talian Stallion?”, He made sure to empathize the “I”.

“The what?”

“Jesus!”

He sat up and made his way over to the VCR, fumbling through the assortment of tapes. Clicking the eject button he swapped them out and began to rewind. In the middle of all this he turned to me, “Bring a couple sandwiches in here, we’re going to start from the beginning.”

Over the next two days we went through Rocky one through five. In the middle of scenes he would talk about the characters, how much he loved Micky and loathed Paulie, but above all you could see the excitement in his face during the fights. Each time he would sit up straight and slightly move his head almost as if he was taking the punches himself. When Rocky would mount his comeback my uncle held a smirk, often times throwing in a punch here and there. From time to time my grandma would come in the RV, poking her head in, watching bits and pieces before ultimately going back inside. Each time before she left she would always look at me with a gentle smile.

When we got through all of the movies I picked up the same habit as my uncle; head bobbing, only more clumsily and with far looser punches. My uncle gave out a chuckle before leading me out of the RV. 

“Put your hands up like this. Adjust your shoulders a bit. Are you left or right handed?”

“Left.”

“You’re a southpaw, just like Rocky!”

This went on for the next few weeks and I even got familiar with some of Stallone’s other movies, but nothing quite compared to the impact that Rocky had on me. Before long I was running around the house telling everyone I was going to be a boxer. My grandma on the other hand didn’t like the idea and made several comments about me getting hurt, but these I shrugged off without hesitation.

Thinking back, I wasn’t quite sure if this was my own desire to be a boxer or that of my uncle’s for me, but at the time I don’t think I cared. It was only a matter of time before my grandma finally gave in to buying me a pair of boxing gloves. They were made from a thin red material that was intended to be a cheap imitation of leather and came bundled with a small punching bag. I had the gloves now, the only thing missing were my trunks.

If I had to describe the way I felt in that exact moment, I was anxious. As she sat at the table I peeked over her shoulder quietly. Her fragile hands showed years of age, wrinkles between the bones and dark spots from the sun. Nonetheless, they were steady. She held the white silk material down moving the fabric under the needle. Somewhere in the house there was a radio on, not distinctive enough to hear what was playing, but just loud enough to listen to the melody.

“ZzzzzzzZzzzzzzZzzzzzZzzz…”

“ZzzzzZzzzzZzzzzzzZzzzz…”

The sound of the sewing machine was quiet. My grandmother’s forehead began to show signs of sweat, it was the middle of summer vacation and the air condition hardly played a factor. She finished sewing one letter and pulled the silk white shorts from under the sewing machine and held them up. “Does it look straight?”, she asked. She glanced over at me and her glasses fell to the bridge of her nose, I nodded yes. She did the same thing five times over, each time lifting the shorts up high so we both could see. 

When she was finally done she pulled them from the table and instead of lifting them to the ceiling, held them against my waist. “How bout you go try them on now?” she smiled. I returned a smile twice as big and took them from her hands. I rushed to my bedroom and changed quickly. The shorts felt light. I shuffled my feet a bit back and forth throwing quick jabs in-between. Returning back to the kitchen where my grandma was now smoking a cigarette, I stood quietly waiting for what she would say. “Woooooow! Look at you! You feel like a boxer now?” she said. “Look how fast I move in them,” I responded. Once again I was shuffling my feet back and forth, giving my grandmother a proper demonstration of my 1-2. “Woooooooow! Just like Rocky!” she said. “Why don’t you go show your uncle outside.”

Making my way to the patio I could finally hear the music that had been coming from the radio. I didn’t know the song at that moment, but I knew the voice. Johnny Cash was all my uncle ever listened to. My uncle was sitting in a lawn chair with a notepad in his hand and a Budweiser on the small table.

“Look at what grandma made me!” 

“The I—Italian Stallion! Let’s see you move like him.”

He got up from the chair and made his way onto the lawn, now with his hands up and palms out, he began to circle me. My uncle was a large man by most people’s standards. Without shoes on he was 6’3 and a half, he never let anyone forget the half. While he was making his way into his early 50s now, his broad shoulders still perched out and the veins in his biceps where his once fresh tattoos had now faded showed signed of strength that had yet to waiver in the slightest. 

“Alright put em up! Let’s see whatcha got!”

My fists shot into his large palms, making no damage but sounding powerful as the impact lingered through the air. I took shots high and low, ducking in-between as his hands wavered quickly over my head. “Alright, faster now!”, he said. I focused my eyes with great concentration as I timed my punches and waited for his swings. We kept at this for a minute or so before he switched up his rhythm and caught me on the side of my head. I stumbled a bit and the sting from the slap not only left my cheek in pain, but my ear ringing. He laughed and dropped his hands. “While it’s good to look for a pattern, never assume the person you’re facing isn’t including this in their game plan as well. How’s your head?” I gave him a nod.

We kept at this in the front yard until my uncle needed another beer. By this time sweat was dripping down my back and my breaths were heavy. Sitting back down in the lawn chair he cracked open another and lit a cigarette. I sat down next to him and we didn’t say a word to each other. The only sounds that could be heard were from the radio and my heavy breaths. It was early in the afternoon and the neighborhood was empty, most people still at work or avoiding the sun outside. 

“Let’s go again.”

[notionsofasimpleton]

Call Out

As I laid in bed staring up at the blank ceiling, I glanced over at my watch on the nightstand, the hands read just past 7 o’clock. My shift for work started in an hour and a half which meant I had exactly 30 minutes if I was going to call out without receiving an incident. I got up to take a piss, then laid back down. The sun was shining through the blinds and I pulled the blanket over my head. I closed my eyes tight and began thinking of a good excuse to tell my boss. “You see Mr.Itzkoff, I just think it’d be better if I took the day off today, unless you’d like to risk the chance of seeing me off myself in the lunch room. In that case I can be there in an hour.” No, that’s no good. “Mr. Itzkoff, I’ve told you of my great-grandmother haven’t I? Yes, the one turning 86 in November. Well, you see she’s not feeling too well and in situation’s such as this, it’s better to be safe than sorry, so I won’t be coming in…” No that’s no good either, best not to put that into the universe. I checked my phone and it was five minutes before 7:30, I made the call hesitantly. The phone began to ring as I tried to find the right words I was going to say. The phone rang over and over, until I finally got the voicemail. “Hello, this is Mr. Itzkoff, unfortunately I cannot get to the phone at the moment, but leave your information and I’ll be sure to give you a call back.” Ah yes, the old voicemail. My nerves settled as I finally found the right words to say, “Yes, Mr. Itzkoff it’s Ritchie, I have some bad news. I woke up this morning to find my tire completely flat. I’m working on the spare right now, but think it would be best if I take the day off to get it fixed. No need to call back, I’ll be in tomorrow.” I pulled the covers back and sat up in bed, suddenly I wasn’t tired with my newfound day off. I thought of all the things I could do. I then got up and took a shower. In 20 minutes I was washed and fully dressed, car keys in hand. I walked out of my apartment, down two levels of stairs and made my way to the car. When I got to my car I sat inside and turned the ignition before the thought came to me, I had no clue where I was going. I checked the time again and it was a little after 8 at this point. I figured I could stop for a coffee. I’m not particularly fond of the area my apartment is in, the traffic can be pretty bad and often times I struggle to find parking. With that being said there is a coffee shop just around the corner. The coffee itself is mediocre at best, but the scones are surprisingly great. After pulling into the parking lot and making my way inside I was greeted with a line to the door. Businessmen and women lined up in their suits and business skirts, meanwhile I was wearing a wrinkled t shirt and jeans. You could sense the feeling of impatience among the group of them as a few swayed back and forth, stealing glances at their watches, then at the cashier in the front. I had an odd sensation knowing I would be in their shoes had I not called in this morning. After about 15 minutes I was next in line, met by the cute brunette who always worked Mondays. She often wore her hair up and strands would fall just over her round glasses, today was no different. “The usual today Ritchie?” she asked. I had been coming here consistently the last three months that she had come to know my name. Unfortunately, with no real reason to ask other than self-interest, I had not yet learned hers. I nodded my head as she once again scribbled my name on the paper cup. Oddly enough she always misspelled my name, forgetting the T and instead scribbling it as R-I-C-H-I-E. It was nothing worth complaining about or bringing up, but I always silently read the letters off when she handed it to me. She rang up my order and I noticed the price was slightly less than normal. “The coffee is on me today,” she said. I gave a smile before finally asking, “Thanks! By the way, what’s your name?” I asked. “It’s Elizabeth,” She said. I repeated the name in my head, it was fitting. “I appreciate it Elizabeth, I hope you have a good day,” I said. I grabbed my order making my way out passed the line that now had built up to the door, thinking to myself how good of an idea it was to call off today. I walked out the door and was met by a cool breeze, I decided to sit on the patio to finish my coffee and scone while I thought what I would do next. Before long I was on the road headed to the library downtown. When I pulled into the parking lot, there were only a few cars and I found a spot right in the front. I got off the car and made my way into the large entrance way, passing a few people along the path. One man asked me for change. “You think you could spare a dollar so I could get something to eat?” he asked. I stopped for a second and was trying to remember how much cash I had in my wallet. I had just gotten paid last week so I knew there was larger bills inside and to avoid getting stiffed into giving a twenty, I avoided my wallet altogether. I reached for the couple bills crumbled in my front pocket I saved on coffee earlier. I looked at it once in my hand before handing it to the older man, $2.36. He looked to be in his mid 50s, pulling around a beat up suitcase. “Thank you so much son,” he said. I nodded with a smile and made my way into the library. Whenever I walked into the library there was always a distinctive smell, I could never quite explain it. There was the obvious aroma of old books, but there was also the smell of a place that had been settled into. The library downtown had been open for a little over 20 years from what I could remember, and throughout those years the thousands of people spending their time reading, sleeping, studying, searching, created a scent that was unique to this specific location. I imagine had you went to someplace in Chicago or Boston there would be something quite similar, but with a scent all its own. In most instances when I visit the library I like to have an idea of what I’m looking for, sometimes a list of items in case something I want is checked out, today is a bit different as it just after 10 am and I should be in the office. The thing about creating a list is it keeps you on track, plenty of times I have found myself endlessly wandering isles looking for anything that caught my eye, whether that be titles, names, colors. The mere idea of this made me want to race home to check my own collection and see if there was anything that stood out. Maybe I was subconsciously drawn towards authors with their last name starting with the letter “B”, or book covers that were shades of blue. I thought about what I had on my shelves for a second before refocusing on the shelf in front of me. I was now in the fiction section and was sharing the isle with an elderly woman who couldn’t have been older than 60. She was small framed and if I had to guess, about 4’11. She also had a bob cut, and the tiniest reading glasses. We made eye contact and exchanged a smile. We both hovered over the sections A-B, side stepping and then stepping back. In these short moves I took glances at what she already had in her hand. She was carrying two films and as her tiny hands covered the lettering, I was only able to make out the word “Blues”. I then found something on the shelf that caught my eye, a book titled “The Woman in the Dunes”. I took a look at the blurb on the back of the book and read it closely, from what I could gather it was about a man held captive in a small village. In this time, I noticed the tiny woman was now staring at me, finally she spoke. “Oh I just love that book. I really do hope you decide to check it out, Abe is a wonderful author. There’s also an old film on it as well,” she said. “The story sounds good, but getting a recommendation from someone always makes me feel better about deciding on something. I think I’m going to check it out, thank you!” I said. She gave me a smile and made her way down the next aisle. I checked a few of the different floors in the library, but ultimately only ended up deciding to get the book the tiny woman recommended. When I finally left the library it was just about 12. I had spent close to two hours wandering isles, which was another reminder why I always brought lists. Still, I was satisfied with how my day had started and decided to grab a pizza from Jimmie’s on the way home. A large supreme cooked well done. At this point traffic was starting to pick up, so I was glad to already be making my way home. When I made my way back to the apartment I sat down on the couch and turned on the sports channel. It was a women’s tennis match. I knew very little about tennis, but after settling into the couch and having a slice of pizza, what was on TV mattered very little. Then, one of the women made a dive for the ball, she saved it and was able to recover in time for the next shot. I sat up from the couch and watched the next exchange before the woman who fell sent the ball flying past her opponent. She clinched her fist for a brief moment facing the crowd, then met the other woman at the center to shake hands. There was a post-match interview soon after, but at this point my eyes were now closed and I was dosing off. When I woke up it was just past 6 pm. I was debating going to the grocery story before deciding leftover pizza was going to be the plan for dinner. The rest of the night I lounged around and read the book I had checked out, picking it up 20 minutes or so at a time in between the random chores I was doing. When it got late I took a shower and got ready for bed. I set my alarm for 7:30 again, tomorrow I would be returning to work, but at least it would be Friday I thought. In the morning I woke up and started the coffee pot and did my little routine. I brushed my teeth, watched the morning forecast on the news, and made a light breakfast of two eggs and toast with jam. At 7:55 I was fully dressed in suit and tie with my bag over my shoulder. I made my way out to the front of the apartments and noticed there was a slight overcast, just as the weatherman mentioned on the news. When I got to my car I threw my bag in the trunk and started the car. I sat in the car for a few minutes fiddling with the radio trying to find a good station. I stumbled on 103.5, “I Wish You Love” by Joe Bataan was finishing up as I pulled out the lot. Not even half a block down the neighborhood street before I noticed a strong vibration coming from the front of the car. I pulled over right away and got out, making my way to the passenger side. I couldn’t believe it; my tire was completely flat. Leaning on the hood of my car I loosened my tie, laughing quietly to myself as I thought about what I would tell my boss this time.

[notionsofasimpleton]

Buford Radio

We had been on the road for four hours now, it was sometime after 3 a.m. and the cheap coffee I bought from the gas station 80 miles back had gone cold already. The road stretched out only as far as the headlights, I was sure if I turned off the lights we’d drive into an empty darkness that could only compare to that of a black hole or the bottom of an endless pit. The heater was broken and for that reason we were both layered in thick jackets and double pants with socks that tested the space within our shoes. The radio was turned down so that the volume was only slightly audible. An advertisement of a new dating website, a week trial if you sign up now. The only light in the car came from the green station numbers on the stereo, and the small light from a pen hovering over her notebook.

 “A nine letter word for crazy…”

“Deranged.”

“No that’s only eight words.”

“Demented?”

“No that’s eight again.”

“Okay, what about delusional?”

“Delusional…hmm. Let’s see…Yes! That works.”

The sound of the pen scratched against the paper as she slowly wrote each letter one after the other, I glanced over at her as she did this. Moments later she scribbled down another word and finally closed the book.

 “How many more hours till we get there?”

“Maybe nine more if we don’t make any stops. Don’t know how many more hours I have in me though, might pull over if we pass by a motel soon.”

“That’s fine with me, I’m going to try to sleep some.”

“Okay. Mind if I turn the radio up some?”

“Go ahead.”

           She unbuckled her seat belt and made her way to the back seat, throwing one leg over the other as I maneuvered my head to avoid being hit. I could hear her rustling around as she tried to lay still. After a few moments I heard nothing but the low sounds coming from the radio, I turned the nob some to make out what was playing. The melody faded away slowly and I only caught the last part which sounded like a tune I couldn’t quite remember, Lou Reed maybe? After the song ended there was an interruption that cut into what sounded like a talk show. I reaffirmed my grip on the steering wheel and began to pick up speed.

 “Weeeeere back again with our special guest Dr. Simmons, who studied psychology for over 20 years and he’s here to answer any and every one of your questions and concerns. Let’s  get our next caller on the line. Ritchie from Buford, Wyoming. What do you got for us today Ritchie?” the host said.

“Well you see, it’s hard to explain. I have these dreams, and they feel very real to the point I constantly wake up in a sweat. I haven’t slept in three days.”

“And what happens in these dreams you have?”

“Lots of stuff. There is one that has been reoccurring. It always starts the same, I’m in a small classroom and the instructor informs us we’ll be taking a small trip. Instantly we’re in a snowstorm at the top of a steep hill that looks down onto a pure white scenery. The instructor, he tells us we must make a decision.”

“What kind of decision?”

“It’s a decision of faith I guess, but I’m not sure in what. He asks us to jump down the mountain and everyone…everyone just jumps.”

“Into nothing?”

“Into nothing. And then everyone is gone and I’m left standing at the peak alone. The instructor then says something.”

“What does he say?”

“He says ‘that’s all for today, time to head home.’ And he walks through a door and the dream ends.”

“Indeed, that is a very strange dream Ritchie. Have you ever thought of jumping?”

“Yes.”

“Why haven’t you?”

 At this point I was going just over 75 on the highway, and all my attention was drawn to the radio. I checked the rearview mirror momentarily and she was fast asleep in the back.

 “Well it’s not that simple. When I watch everyone else jump I’m stuck there on top of that peak. I have no awareness of my body, it’s almost as if I’m watching through someone else’s eyes. No matter how hard I try, all I can do is watch.”

 “I believe that might have something to do with…it’s almost as if…”

 The radio kept cutting in and out until all I could hear was static. I kept glancing back and forth between the stereo and the road as I attempted to fiddle with the radio. Each station I turned to was complete static. Out the window now were mountains that filled the skies which could explain the bad reception. I had already been so invested into the story that I began to grow frustrated. What was the doctor going to say? What did it all mean. I thought about the dream and tried to piece together what was actually going on. There was the instructor, but he didn’t say exactly what he taught. Then they’re all there just on that cliff. Everyone makes their choice and jumps, and he’s stuck there. Everyone is taking a risk, and he’s frozen still.

Once we passed the mountains the land went flat and the road opened up to empty plains that stretched as far as the night sky. In the distance was a sign for a motel and next to it another sign that was almost completely faded, all I could make out was the first letter, “B”. There was also the population written, but the numbers after “1” were gone. My eyes were heavy by now and I knew I wouldn’t be able to make it much further on the road. I pulled off on the exit and turned into a small parking lot that was occupied by an even smaller hotel. It was a one story building made of logs with eight doors lined up one after the other. At the edge of one side was a room I assumed was the office, dimly lit. Above this small section was a small painted sign labeled “Buford Motel” and just below it a neon green light that spelled out “Vacancy”. I pulled into one of the spots and looked to the back seat, she was still sound asleep. I figured I could check in and then come back to get her.

           I entered the small office and was met by a ring just above the door. The room was lit by a small lamp just above the desk. Behind the desk was a young man who looked to be a few years younger than myself with his head ducked under a book. He wore glasses and had an energy I couldn’t quite explain, but almost familiar. From a corner of his desk was a small radio just loud enough I was able to make out what they were saying.

 “Well that’s all for tonight’s show, I want to thank Dr. Simmons for spending time with us and all of my listeners for tuning in, until next time!”

 It seemed I wasn’t the only one tuning into that talk show. The man lowered the volume on the radio and stood up to greet me. He wore a blue dress shirt with a brown tie that was loosened. When I looked at him now he appeared to be older, bags under his eyes that showed signs he hadn’t had much sleep.

  “Hello, My name is Ritchie. What can I do for you tonight?”

[frankocean]

-5

[notionsofasimpleton]

Dog Shit

When I opened my eyes she was already awake, her dark silhouette moving slowly throughout the room. I let my eyes adjust to the darkness as I watched her every move as she piled each piece of clothing one on top of the other. Before long she had a handful and made her way out the room. I watched her quietly close the door bedroom and laid in silence as I waited for the main door to open and close. Five minutes had passed before I heard anything, then there was the opening of the fridge. A second later it closed and a few more seconds after that I heard the main door open, followed by her key locking it shut. The sound left an unsettling feeling that echoed throughout the walls, I waited for it to stop. I glanced over at my phone in the dark, it was only half past four, I tried to go back to sleep.

           The light from the window shined bright through the blinds as I rolled out of bed. I needed curtains I thought to myself, I don’t know how many more mornings I could put up with being woken by the sunlight. I made my way to the kitchen and started up the coffee maker, then I walked lazily to the restroom to take a piss. Afterwards I gave my teeth a good brush and washed my face with warm water in fear that the cold might throw me into shock. I always thought it was better to ease into the mornings rather than being hit by them, that is, if you were giving the option. Most weren’t given the option. I looked at myself in the mirror wondering if there was any new difference, another day older, when would it show?

           Back in the kitchen the coffee was done and I poured myself a cup filling it with Splenda and hazelnut creamer. I took a long drink and headed out to the balcony. Outside the sun was shining bright, but a nice breeze made it bearable. I had a seat on one of the chairs outside and began to look down across at the ground floor of the apartment complex, I lived on the second floor. There was a man walking his Bichon Frise through the parts of grass and he or she was sniffing for a good place to shit. Moments later the dog found a nice spot on the sidewalk. The man looked around and then began on a slight jog away from the scene, he didn’t notice me. I watched the big pile of shit as it rested in the middle of the sidewalk, I was sure someone would step in it. A man or woman too busy to notice a giant pile right in front of them, what a way to start the morning.

           The first person that passed was a mother and her two children. She looked to be in her early 30s and had dirty blonde hair. She was trying to manage holding her purse and pulling her two children, a boy and a girl, as they walked along the sidewalk. I was sure it’d be one of them. When they began to get closer I watched without taking my eyes off. About 5 steps before, the little boy raised his finger pointing at the big pile, “Momma… Momma look its poo!”. She slowed down only slightly and made her way through the grass dodging the big pile of shit.

           Then next person to come up the walkway was Donaldson, the old man who lived below me. He was a good man, when I first moved in he brought me a fifth of whiskey and we had a few drinks before he went back to his flat. He lived alone since his wife passed and although him and I were on good terms, I couldn’t say the same for the others that lived in our complex. He walked with a cane but somehow managed to move swiftly, using it more as a utensil to get an extra step rather than to hold himself up. When he got close to the pile of shit I stood up.

“Donaldson, watch out for that pile of dog shit!”

“What?”

He used a hearing aid. I shouted louder.

           “The pile of dog shit, Donaldson!”

He finally managed to see what I had been pointing at and his face grew red.

“WHAT IN THE BLOODY NAME OF…WHO IN THE HELL…AGHHH! FUCKING SHIT!”

I tried to hold back tears of laughter and joined him in the rage to know I was on his side.

“Fucking animals I tell ya, these young folks don’t have no respect these days Donaldson”

           “You’re damn right they don’t! Somebody gotta teach these kids some manners. I gots to clean this up before somebody steps in it.”

And with that I watched him move quickly as he passed the dog shit, looking back every few steps mumbling words I couldn’t quite make out. When he left, the complex went quiet and I noticed my mug was empty. I made a trip back inside and filled up with coffee, creamer, and Splenda again. I thought it was a good time to check my phone so I made my way to the bedroom and lifted up the sheets with one hand while I maintained my coffee in the other. With one good tug my phone flew up off the bed and landed on the floor. I picked it up examining for signs of damage and then made my way back to the main room. I took a seat on the sofa and opened up my phone. One message was from my boss asking if I could come in today, the other was from Gracie explaining why she left.

I’m sorry I had to leave so early, I hope I didn’t wake you. I just had to be back home before you know who. Let’s get together again tonight? I promise I’ll stay the whole night this time. I’ll even make us breakfast in the morning. Talk to you later

 I read the message twice over and thought about “you know who”, and the situation at whole. What a hole I dug myself into, I thought to myself.

Sure. Come whenever. See you later.

             After sending the message part of me wished I could take it back. I didn’t really know how much I wanted her over anymore. The same routine grew tiresome. Late night stays followed by quiet getaways. Most guys wouldn’t complain, but then again, I wasn’t most guys. While I laid back on the couch I hear a man scream from outside. I ran to the balcony.

“WHAT THE FUCK! WHO THE HELL LEFT THIS SHIT?”

It was a man in shorts and a tank, he looked like had been jogging. He stomped on the sidewalk smearing it across the pavement in hopes of scraping it off his new balance. To top all the commotion Donaldson finally came back out with a plastic bag.

“What the hell are you doing? You’re smearing it all over the fucking place! Didn’t anyone ever teach you how to clean dog shit off your shoe, get a fucking stick or wipe it in the grass!”

Donaldson lunged his cane at the jogger, jabbing him in the chest. The man stumbled back.

“Hey watch where you still that thing you old fart!”

“I’ll stick it up your ass if you don’t get the hell out of here! Now somebody’s gotta spray this shit down. Go on, get the hell outta here!”

The man looked up and saw me leaning off the balcony, then glanced back at Donaldson before making his way back in the other direction smelling of dog shit and body odor. Donaldson was making his way back to his place to get the hose when I thought I’d help him.

“Don’t worry about it Donaldson, I’ll hose it down.”

“You know, you’re a good kid Ritchie, not like these other assholes around here. Why don’t you come over for a cup of joe after you finish cleaning up?”

“Sure Pops, I’ll be over in a bit”

I pulled out the hose and began spraying down the pavement. The whole morning, I spent waiting for someone else to step in shit and here I was cleaning it up, I laughed at the thought. 10 minutes later I was putting up the hose and walked on over to Donaldson’s. The door was open and he was mixing his coffee, he drank his black.  “I don’t have any of that hazelnut crap you drink but there’s some milk in the fridge”, he said. I pulled out the carton and filled up the cup he set out for me.

“Any plans for today kid?”

“Other than cleaning up dog shit? No.”

“I got a little pot from that guy Evan on the other side of the complex if you want to smoke. Back in my day our stuff looked more like dirt than anything else. Today you get half for twice the price, stuff packs a punch though.”

“I’m not much of a smoker”

“Neither am I”

           15 minutes later the old man and I were passing a little joint back and forth taking turns coughing. “How bout I throw on some music?”, he said. I watched him fiddle with an old record player in the corner of the room and put on something by Fleetwood Mac. Before long he was moving his shoulders and snapping his fingers while holding up the roach. The music was relaxing and eventually I was laying on the couch with my shoes off staring up at the ceiling. Donaldson stretched all the way back in his Lazy boy.

“You know that girl Gracie, the one that’s been over a few times, I introduced you?”

“The pretty little brunette, how could I forget. What about her?”

“Well, she has a boyfriend and I guess part of me cares and the other part of me could care less. I love when she’s around but when she’s gone all I can think about is her being with that other guy.”

“Well kid, from what it sounds like, that isn’t the best way to start off a relationship. The longer it goes on the deeper hole you’re going to find yourself in. Eventually you’re gonna get attached and you “only care part of the time” is going to caring “full time” and then you’ll really have a problem on your hands. But, I also don’t want to turn you away from a cute little thing like that, so enjoy the ride while it lasts, just remember it’s all short term and everything will be alright.”

           I thought about what he said and it all made sense. He was right. It was just hard to enjoy something knowing it wouldn’t be around forever. I often found myself thinking about the future instead of enjoying the moment and this time wasn’t any different. Even with his advice I still didn’t know what to do.

“Thanks Pops, I think I’m gonna head upstairs now, I gotta few things to do.”

“Anytime kid. And thanks for picking up that dog shit again.”

He walked me to the door and I made my way upstairs. It was already 5, where did all the time go? When I got to my room my eyes were heavy and I thought about going to sleep but my place was a mess. I cleaned off the kitchen counter and threw out the trash. After that I vacuumed the rest of the place and started thinking about what to eat. Chinese sounded good, maybe some shrimp fried rice. I grabbed the number off the refrigerator and dialed from my cellphone.

“Hello this is Star Wok, pick-up or delivery?”

“Delivery.”

“Ah Ritchie my boy, the usual today?”

“Yeah Sui, could you add an order of shrimp fried rice to that too?”

“Sure thing boss, it’ll be $14.25. And give me 30 minutes and I’ll be over there.”

“You’re doing the deliveries now?”

“Just today, that little bastard Michael called off again today, said he was down with the flu.”

“Well shit, see you in 30 Sui.”

           After I hung up the phone I jumped in the shower. I let the water out cold in hopes of waking me up. I couldn’t help but think back to Gracie. She’d probably be on her way home from work around this time. I washed my hair and scrubbed my body, then got out and dried off. Back in the bedroom I threw on some shorts and a t-shirt when I heard the bell ring. I snatched my wallet from the counter table and pulled out a 20 before opening the door.

           Sui was a thin Asian man who also was on the short side. He had to be in his mid 40s and wore thick glasses that made his tiny eyes appear huge. He was wearing a striped shirt and light jeans when I opened the door.

“Just the man I wanted to see, come on in Sui.” “Okay, but I can’t stay long, a lot of deliveries to go out.”

“That damned Michael.”

“Little asshole, this the second day he called off this week. I fire him when he get back.”

“What I owe you again?” “$14.25”

“Here, keep the change.”

“Thanks Ritchie, need any more soy sauce?”

“No I’m okay, thanks.” “Well I gots to be going, 3 more deliveries to make.”

“Alright, see ya Sui”

After he left I sat the food in front of the TV and turned on a movie. It was Swingers, it was at the part where Vince Vaughn was telling the story about how he tried out for a big brother part in some after school special. I dug into the teriyaki chicken and picked at the shrimp fried rice. When the movie was over and the food was gone I threw away the trash and began reading on the balcony. Ask the Dust by John Fante, my fifth time reading it. I read a good 50 pages before I realized how dark it had gotten outside. Gracie still was a no show. I went back into the apartment and decided to get ready for bed. I moved throughout the apartment turning off all the lights one by one until I was in complete darkness. When I made it to the bedroom I fell into the bed and stared up at the ceiling. My eyes grew heavy but my mind was still wandering, I closed them and began to think what I’d do tomorrow, end things with Gracie maybe. I let the thought past and then there was nothing.

           Somewhere in the back of my head I heard a click, what was it? It was loud and followed by a screeching noise that stretched high and then low. It was the front door. I made no moves, but opened my eyes. The bedroom door opened next and she stumbled in. I heard her heels click against the floor as she took them off. It was too dark to see her face. She then pulled down her dress and was down to her panties. Her silhouette moved slowly and when she got to the corner of the bed, I closed my eyes again. She crawled in and laid there next to me, the smell of liquor lingering through the sheets.

-J.C.

[barrenspace666]

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Kurt Cobain plays And I Love Her by The Beatles 

[notionsofasimpleton]

A Sight to See

I snapped a shot of a flock of vultures hovering over a family camped out under a dead tree this morning, one might say the photo is even more significant than the very one taken by Kevin Carter. The family of 4 was huddled close together for warmth, all stretching out a piece of father’s heavy jacket. Meanwhile, father fought off the birds. Photos like these don’t hold any significance anymore, at least not here. The world has been struck by famine far worse than mankind has ever seen. “The Lengths Man Must Go for His Family”, how does that sound for a headline in the NY Times? Or maybe replace “Must” with “WILL”, yes, that’s it. If only there were still newspapers to spread the news.

           Part of me wanted to help the family, but it was no use. More important than food, the family lost hope, and that was all the difference. A candy bar or two would only spare them another day at most, but for me, I could make it last twice that. What good would sparing them another 24 hours do, when the vultures would only return the next morning? I contemplated my answer over lunch under a bridge nearby. I found a cool spot in the shade that put me in a position to tell if anyone was coming long before they could spot me. I sat down and opened my backpack. For the past 3 days I’ve been eating cans of cold corn, not exactly my idea of a meal, but there wasn’t much you could do. It only took a couple years for all the good stuff to go, people loaded up for food but it was all either wasted in the first few months or stolen from them. Luckily enough I managed to find a can of peaches in an old convenience store before snapping my most recent of photos. So it was peaches for lunch today, and for dessert, a snickers bar. While finishing up my candy bar I was looking through some of the photos I had taken over the last few days. My favorite was the one I snapped of a stray dog and an old man playing tug of war with a dead pigeon. I had so much trouble holding still taking that picture as I fought back laughter, what a sight! After getting the photo I busted into laughter, which startled the two of them. In all the commotion the pooch made off with dinner and the old man waved his fist at me shouting things I can’t remember. I guess some things never change. After that I took out the memory card and replaced it with one that held the very first photos I took, which had been almost years ago now. Right away I found the shot I took of Emily and Sammy and it reminded me of the very first day I met them, coincidently it was only a couple days after I found my camera.

           It was my first trip back to the city after everything went to shit. Back then there were a lot more people scavenging the streets, but just like everything else, they sucked it dry. The streets smelled of trash and fires that were still smoking, the walls spray painted in things unimaginable. Pharmacies were raided, liquor stores broken into, grocery stores wiped clean. About the only thing that had the shelves stocked were the electronic stores. Funny to think how our world revolved around these very things from laptops to 60in flat screen TVs. Now it was all just novelties of the past. It was actually in a Best Buy where I found my camera. I had decided to camp out in one near downtown when I was passing through hoping to stock up on more food. Compared to the times I had entered one when people were still running it, it looked like a graveyard built for the electronics.  The walls were piled with TVs of all sizes and the counters was stocked with everything from cellphones to Bluetooth speakers, all useless now. Before settling in I decided to take a look around and that’s when I found myself in the camera section. I remember being in the very same isle when I had wanted to be a photographer, I was almost immediately scared off by the price tags. But now, price tags didn’t matter, you took what you needed, and that’s all that mattered these days. Even if it wasn’t yours, in the end it all boiled down to who would do more for it, who would kill for it, those were who survived. A camera wasn’t anything I thought I needed at the moment, but something I always wanted. And when you think about it, is there really a difference? With the help of my flashlight I looked over all the cameras before I decided to make my pick, it was a Fujifim X100T, marked down at $1,099.99, on sale too! I went to the back and began searching and found it after about 15 minutes. That night I stayed up till daylight up on one of the shelves, reading through the manual and by the morning, I had memorized every one of its functions. I even grabbed a couple extra memory cards in case I ran out of space.

           At first the camera was just something to do, to make the time go faster. There wasn’t anything left to wait for anymore, no Mondays, no Fridays, time was smashed together just like it once was. You only waited for daylight and daybreak, there wasn’t a future for us, maybe in a hundred years there would be, but by then, we’d be long gone. So it was anything to pass the time, I’d read books if I had them, but even the biggest novels seemed like short stories when all you have is time and you’re dying to disappear into another world.

After a few days I saw something I felt that I just needed to take a picture of, something I felt the world needed to see. It was on my way out of the city and I spotted a young boy who looked to be about 12. Immediately I wondered why someone so young was scavenging the streets alone, I began to follow him. I made sure to keep my distance and at each stop he made I snapped a picture. He made his way down what was once Broadway St., staying close to the shadows. Click! He The first couple of pictures I caught him coming in and out of apartments, breaking windows and busting open doors with a crowbar.  Sometimes with a can or two, other times with nothing, but it was his last stop that got to me. He came out of this small toy store, caring a small blonde doll. Click! I snapped another photo, then continued to follow. After about an hour he made his way to a minivan, it looked like maybe it was green a long time ago, but the sun and rain had taken their tolls. The van was parked in a crowded parking lot full of cars that looked torn apart or broken down. He knocked on the back window 3 times, then 2 more, from which a small girl opened the door with joy. I snapped another shot. His sister, I thought to myself. She looked to be no older than 5 and sported a shirt two sizes too big and a Yankees baseball cap. Had it not been for the long hair you could hardly tell she was a girl. She jumped out the van giving the young boy a big hug. I decide to stick around for a little while to see if anyone else would show, but once it got dark, I knew no one else would be coming. After much thought I decided to knock on the window, first 3 times, then 2 more, the door opened immediately. “Daddy!”, she shouted. Only seconds after she realized I wasn’t her father and her brother jumped into the picture.

           “WHO ARE YOU?”

           He held a small revolver in his hands and aimed it right at my chest. It forced me to take a step back.

           “I’m Ritchie, I thought maybe we could help each other?”

           “Oh and how could you possibly help us?”

           “I have a lot of food to share, and could sure use a place to stay for the night.”

He looked to be contemplating his answer when the little girl jumped out.

           “C’mon Sammy let em stay. He’s all out there by himself with nobody to look out for em, plus I’m still hungry, and he don’t look like one of the bad guys.”

           She was right, I wasn’t one of the bad guys, but how could anybody really be sure? Sammy on the other seemed pretty sure. You could see the innocence in his eyes and that was one thing you couldn’t hide in this world, maybe he was able to see it in my eyes too. His hair draped over his forehead in a wave, his eyes a shade of blue, and he wore a football jersey that had the number 16 fading away. He finally let me in and we sat in a triangle with the two of them on one side and me on the other. The van was covered with blankets that looked from all over and sheets covering the windows, the only source of light came from a small candle placed in one of the cup holders in the back. We sat in silence for a good 5 minutes before anyone said anything.

           “I’m Emily! So whatcha got for us huh?”, she said. She smiled big and I noticed one of her front teeth missing, which struck a smile from me too. It amazed me how joyful someone could be in these times. Destruction was everywhere and here was this little girl without a care in the world. If she could smile through all this, then surely I could too. I opened up my backpack and pulled out a number of things from packaged doughnuts to canned sausages. I even busted out a liter of strawberry soda I found awhile back. We all passed the bottle around with smiles on our faces. Even Sammy was able to lighten up now. Soda was hard to come by, even for me. I learned from Sammy that they were waiting for their father to return with food, but it had been almost 3 days since he had left. I knew he was probably dead by now, but I didn’t have the guts to tell them.

“So what about you, why are you traveling by yourself?”

           “Before all this I didn’t have anyone to go home to, so I guess for me it wasn’t much of a transition, plus there’s less to worry about traveling alone.”

 We stayed up late that night telling stories of memories Emily never got the chance to remember and when it got really late, we went to sleep, with our bellies full of junk food and bubbly soda. When the morning came, it was time for me to keep moving. They offered to let me stay longer and in return I asked them to come with me, but in the end we both declined. Following Sammy and meeting Emily gave me hope, hope that I had long forgotten. Countless encounters pushed me to forget about the kindness of the youth and that gave me a reason to take these pictures. Even if no one seen them while I was alive, maybe in a hundred years someone would come across my camera and see even through this hellhole, there was still hope.

Sitting under the bridge I began to cry looking at the last picture I had taken of the two, as they waved goodbye back at me. I soon wiped my eyes and began to run. I ran as fast as I could back to that poor family. When I finally found them under the dead tree the vultures were taking turns striking down on them. I pulled off my backpack filled with cans swinging it back and forth. They began to attack me scratching and pecking at my head, but I continued to swing. I felt my bag hit a number of them and they screeched in pain, and all at once they fled.

When they finally left I felt the blood running down my forehead and a stinging pain in the back of my head. The family watched me nervously as I stood in front of them. I slowly opened up my bag and held out a couple candy bars, trying to crack a smile through my busted lip. What a sight to see I thought, if only there was someone to take a picture.

[fluentinmusic]

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Do For Love - 2pac

[wordsnquotes]

There are some things about myself I can’t explain to anyone. There are some things I don’t understand at all. I can’t tell what I think about things or what I’m after. I don’t know what my strengths are or what I’m supposed to do about them. But if I start thinking about these things in too much detail the whole thing gets scary. And if I get scared I can only think about myself. I become really self-centered, and without meaning to, I hurt people.

Haruki Murakami, The Elephant Vanishes (via wordsnquotes)

[etris]

Oh well, what the hell, you obviously want to be alone, so I’ll leave you alone. Go ahead and think away to your heart’s content! But don’t get me wrong. I’m not totally mad at you. I’m just sad. You were so nice to me when I was having my problems, but now that you’re having yours, it seems there’s not a thing I can do for you. You’re all locked up in that little world of yours, and when I try knocking on the door, you just sort of look up for a second and go right back inside.

Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood (via etris)

[music4thebasshead]

anime: Neon Genesis Evangelion

music: Robot Orchestra - Winding Rhodes

[rikajiki-blog]

[notionsofasimpleton]

And the Beautiful Women, They Come in Surplus

Working in large places where there is usually a large flow of people made me realize a few things. The first, being that most people are usually assholes. But, as defense for the human race, there are the exceptions. Now these few exceptions don’t exactly even out the playing field, but they do however have just enough impact to make you forget the assholes, if even only for a moment. As I clocked in for work 5 minutes late the third time this week a coworker of mine gave me a dirty look while adding “late again, one more and that’s a write up”. I shot back a glare of my own and put my time card back. See the thing is, my job’s policy is we’re allowed to be 7 minutes without any repercussions, but for some odd reason Ann likes to give me shit for no reason. I think it has to do with her baby pictures. When I had first started, a group of us were on our breaks one night when she thought she’d pass around pictures of her babies in the breakroom. When she tried to hand me one of her son, I gave it a quick glance and made no attempt to reach out for further inspection. I was preoccupied and in all honesty I didn’t care much either, but ever since that day on, I don’t think there’s any better way of saying this. She’s been a total bitch. So after my run in with Ann I headed up to the information desk. I work at the desk just outside arrivals at the airport if you were wondering. It’s a pretty easy job when it comes down to it because most people have too much pride to ask for directions and the ones who don’t, ask the dumbest questions. “Where’s the closest bathroom?” “How far is baggage claim” “What’s there even to do in Arizona?”. The bathroom is about 10 steps from my desk and there happens to be a large baggage claim sign pointing to left. As for “what’s there to do in Arizona?”, I usually point to one of the dozens of brochures to the side of my desk. When I’m not being asked the couple questions here and there or answering the phone I’m usually reading something behind my desk. Because of how many people that come around, the manager is okay with me reading on the clock which is great for me since I can manage a book in about a day or so. Today I’m reading Catcher in the Rye. I read it back in high school but found it in the lost and found the other day and thought I’d read it over again. I was about 30 pages in when a woman a couple years older than me walked up to the desk asking how to get to the next terminal. She was really something, without a doubt. I wouldn’t be the least surprised if she was the center of many mens' dreams. Just when I was about to offer walking her over to the next terminal myself, Ann came up and ruined it! “Oh its simple honey I’ll draw you out a map” she said. I looked at her with disgust as she penned it out explaining turn by turn. I tried to look up at the women and still manage a smile while she walked away. After she was gone Ann looked at me with a smile and sat down next to me. 5 minutes passed. “I’m taking a smoke break be back in 10”, I said. Before she could react against it I jumped over the counter and got lost in a big crowd that was passing. On my way to the smoking area I looked around taking in all the people. The thing about the airport, was that at any given moment you could spot your next dream girl. And in some cases you’d even spot multiple dream girls in the same area. I thought to myself, this is better than dream. I don’t think I’ve managed to ever dream up multiple girls, and here, there was an endless supply. But the truth was, there wasn’t. Most of them were with someone, waiting for someone, or waiting on someone. It was like window shopping for 1 of 1’s and they were in high demand, only the rich and popular received them. I made my way to the smoking area and sat on a bench next to an old man. He looked to be in his mid 60’s and wore tennis shoes and a “I heart Hawaii” shirt. Even though we were sitting under a ramada, I could feel my shirt sticking to my back because of the humidity, I loosened my collar. I pulled out a cigarette, lit it with a match, and took a big puff. “It’s going to be a warm one today”, the man said. “Yeah I can already feel it”, I replied. We sat there both smoking are Newports watching the people drift by. Another pretty one passed and I watched her the whole way. “Well she sure is a lovely young lady, wouldn’t you say?”, he said. “Definitely”, I said with a smile. “You’ll find who you’re looking for sooner or later and who knows, it’s possible you already have”, he said this with a smile too. I thought for a second about what he was saying and wondered if I knew someone like that already. “And it’s also very possible that that young lady was the one too.”, He said. I looked at him and he looked back with a huge grin. I put the cigarette out and searched through the crowd.

– Johnny Chapa